


Stay

by RedGold



Series: Team Flynn [4]
Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: BrOTP Garcy, Christmas, Depression, F/M, Family, Flufus - Freeform, Garcy Secret Santa 2020, Halloween, Happy ending later, Hope, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Timeless Secret Santa 2020, angst first, is it Tompkins or Thompkins?, sex scene in part two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedGold/pseuds/RedGold
Summary: Now that Flynn has told Lorena about the time machine and what happened, he has to find his way back into his family's lives. Not just that of his wife and child, but also with a mother who is now alive again, and a half-brother with a family of his own. With no shared memories and PTSD rearing its ugly head, will he end up running away, or will he stay?Sequel to Walk Away.
Relationships: Garcia Flynn/Lorena Flynn
Series: Team Flynn [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067330
Comments: 20
Kudos: 14
Collections: Timeless Secret Santa Fic Exchange 2020





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Omnicat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnicat/gifts).



> This fic is for Omnicat who is my Garcy Secret Santa 2020. I cheated a bit as I already had about 3k of this sequel written when I got their prompts. It fit almost perfectly, so ~25k words later, here we are. I hope they enjoy this gift! <3
> 
> Part two will be posted later this week.

**Stay**

**Part One**

Flynn had to be honest, the thought of walking into that house, staying, it made him ill. He knew it was PTSD. He knew talking about it would/was helping. But it would be another burden to carry while he tried to figure out where he fit in his family’s lives.

“So we move,” Lorena told him.

“Move?” 

“Yes, we…” Lorena paused and swallowed. “The previous you and I, we already considered moving during the summer. Iris will be starting middle school next year and we thought about moving her into a better district for high school.”

It sounded like something he would have highly considered. Lorena had grown up in a one school town in Indiana that hadn’t exactly offered much more than a basic education. And Flynn’s formable years were spent in the middle of a war zone. They both wanted to give Iris a better life than they had. That’s what a parent does, right?

They picked their current house for the elementary school... why not move if they could afford to?

His business was doing well, and Lorena had gone back to work full time as a civil engineer now that Iris was older. Even without the money he gained by making those investments in the past they were in a position where they could have moved if they so decided. They didn’t have to stay where they were. 

But still...

“I don’t want you to upend your life,” he told her. “For you to rearrange everything for me if... if things don’t work out between us.”

“Garcia, you know well enough I don’t do anything I don’t want to.” She smirked. “Well, not without making my displeasure known.”

Flynn chuckled at a flood of memories. He had been on the receiving end of that displeasure once, back when they met, and he had made a complete fool of himself. Over the years, he didn’t know how he didn’t mess up again, certainly others had suffered her wrath. 

“That is true,” he said with a nod. If this is what she wanted, then he wasn’t going to say no.

Lorena reached forward and took his hand. “Hey, don’t do that, don’t think that you owe me anything for what happened. We’re a partnership, even if we...” She took a breath. “I don’t expect you to do anything different, decision making wise. We’ll move because it’s best for Iris. Better school, and in a house her father can walk into, even if he doesn’t stay the night.”

He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb and smiled. There was still some weight to his smile, dragging it down, but at least he hadn’t lost it. Telling Lorena about time travel and what happened in the previous timeline was the best thing he could have done. He was going to be in his daughter’s life. Lorena was going to make sure he didn’t miss anything else.

As for themselves, he simultaneously wanted to run towards Lorena, and run away from her. The thought of kissing her again put butterflies in his stomach whilst making him feel like he was walking slowly on hot coals. He knew, from a detached perspective, it was more about his own self-hate than anything to do with her. He was angry at her for not rejecting the monster he clearly was, and relieved that she wasn’t giving up on him, as he had given up on himself.

But could that translate back into a healthy relationship? Only time would tell... and only if he stayed to put in the work.

“We need to think about Gabe,” Lorena mercifully changed the subject. Though was it truly mercy? “And your mother.”

In his original timeline, Maria’s health had failed her after her second husband died in the war. Asher Flynn had been trying to protect the freedoms of his fellow Croats. And her heart had never fully mended from losing her first son, an act for which she blamed herself. There was only so much loss a woman could take and the stress of everything became too much. She lived long enough to meet her granddaughter, and saw Gabriel in her eyes.

In the next timeline, since Gabriel was so much older than his brother, he had already moved to France by the time Asher died. Flynn sent Maria to stay with Gabriel even as he lied about his age to join the fight. Asher’s death and Flynn fighting didn’t help her health, but it didn’t break it. No, that came upon learning of Lorena and Iris’ death, and Flynn out on the run, though she believed him innocent. A year later, her heart gave out. 

Now, in this timeline, Maria’s heart never got broken down to the point of shards slicing through her. She lived comfortably in France with Gabriel, knowing her sons and her grandchildren were healthy and happy.

“We usually see them at Christmas,” Lorena said quietly, “if not before then.”

“I… I need time,” he replied, his throat tight. 

“I understand. That’s a bridge farther down the road,” she agreed. “Iris graduates Elementary in two weeks. I have vacation days I can use. We’ll get the house sorted and get you caught up on everything.”

There were so many details, big and small. Some he already gleaned from his text messages. A few Lorena had already said. But six years is a long time, with new faces having come in and out of his life, not to mention a whole lifetime lived with his brother... “What do we tell everyone?”

“The truth.” Lorena smiled sadly. “You forgot.”

…

“Thank you, so much, for your help this past week, watching Iris.” Lorena told Susan as they stood in the front hall of the school auditorium. The woman was the mother of one of Iris’ friends and fellow soccer player.

“You know the girls love a sleepover.” Susan smiled and then it tapered. “But she is worried about her father.”

“I know.” Lorena nodded and didn’t bother to hide what she was feeling. “She’s a perceptive kid.”

“It’s got to be rough.” Susan was very sympathetic. She glanced over to where Garcia was standing in front of a memory wall for the graduating class. “You said the brain clot caused memory loss. You never said how bad.”

“It’s mostly newer memories.” It wasn’t really a lie, wasn’t really a truth, but it was the only thing that made sense in a world without time travel. “He still remembers the important things, like the birth of Iris. But don’t be taken aback if he doesn’t recognize you.”

“I’m not important?” Susan play pouted, and they shared a small laugh before it got serious again. “This can’t be easy for you two. I’m always happy to babysit if you need me to.”

“I appreciate it.” She gave Susan a thankful look. “But he’s home now, and we’re about to move, so, I think a fresh start is exactly what we need.”

An announcement came over the intercom for everyone to take their seats, the graduation ceremony would begin shortly. Lorena told Susan to save them a seat, they’d be right in, then went to get Garcia.

They had to sell the story of the brain clot, even to his friends and employees. Flynn hated to do it, to have to lie to so many. Especially those he had known since long before. But he couldn’t just go around telling everyone about the time machine, showing them proof so they didn’t think he was crazy. 

Lucy, Mason, and the others all had to agree on who to tell outside of Lorena, Amy, and Jessica. That way they knew who was in the loop and kept control of the information. There was no shortage of fascist hate groups in the world, unfortunately, and the last thing anyone needed was for one of those groups to learn that time travel was real. 

No one argued that Garcia needed to tell his brother, Gabriel, except for Garcia himself. 

Yes, it would be difficult to get around not having grown up with his brother. But Garcia wasn’t going to burden Gabriel with the knowledge that it was his younger brother who saved him that day, from the bee sting. That he was only alive because his sister-in-law and niece had been murdered, and Garcia had been a bit suicidal if he was honest with himself. There was no way to know he’d still be born if Gabriel lived.

Garcia couldn’t do that to his brother. He’d rather have a strained relationship from a lack of memories than for Gabriel to have to confront those feelings.

The one brother-like figure Garcia did tell, was Stiv. They didn’t let the team know they told him, but Garcia knew Stiv, he was trustworthy. And Stiv trusted him, and he knew Lorena. If they said time-travel was real and that Garcia lost the last six years fighting to save his family, then he accepted it as truth. And there was nothing for him to apologize for, regarding Stiv’s former death on the Hindenburg. Iris was like a niece to him, and he would have done anything to save her and Lorena.

As for everyone else in Flynn’s life, the not-quite-a-lie would have to do. Even for his mother.

He didn’t want to burden her as well with the fact one of her sons had to steal a time machine to save the other. Thankfully there was less of a discrepancy between their timelines than that of him and Gabriel. But the last decade was a wash, family gatherings and celebrations he didn’t remember attending. And the fact that she was still alive after losing her… after not being sure if a heart attack would take her from him again.

Lorena had to stay a little out of sight most of the video call he had with them, silently prompting him with details when she could. They worried about him, with this brain clot affecting his memories. His mother would make an NSA agent proud the way she interrogated him to make sure he was okay. Making sure she didn’t need to hop on the next flight out. She settled for regular calls, more so than he usually made.

When the call ended, he laid his head on Lorena’s lap and cried until he passed out. She sat there, running her hand through his hair, over his fresh scar…

To complete the effect of the brain clot story, they got a doctor to cut deep over his right ear, as if he had brain surgery. The scar would be real and visible, even once the patch of shaved hair in that area grew back. But today he had a bandage over it so as not to gross people out, they were at their daughter’s graduation after all.

Garcia was staring at the memory wall. Photos from Pre-K to Fifth Year were taped to the white concrete. Brightly colored, whimsically cut paper framed them. Lorena recognized most of the kids, but she couldn’t name them all, she had simply seen them at events such as this. Of course, they would all be strangers to Garcia.

“That was last year,” Lorena said as she realized he was staring at the photo taken of a school play. “The kids wanted to do a rap, like _Hamilton_ , only, you know, no cursing. They picked the Civil War and the teacher, Mrs. Hempstead, helped them write the lyrics. The things she snuck in, the digs at all the white-wash of history and the ‘there are good people on both sides’ tripe.” Lorena chuckled at the memory and then stopped herself because Garcia had seen the play, just not the Garcia standing before her. 

He was the same man, different, but the same.

“Um,” she cleared her throat, “you recorded it. I’m sure I can find it for you.”

“Iris…” he furrowed his brow. “She played Lincoln?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lorena looked at where Iris stood in a black coat and tails, a stovepipe hat, with black felt eyebrows and sideburns. “She was one of the tallest in the class at the time. She also had some of the best lines… Are you going to be okay?”

He tore his eyes away from the image and there was a depth of pain there that made her feel helpless. “I think I will be,” he said honestly. “I just keep hitting speedbumps I didn’t know were there.”

Lorena slipped her hand into his and squeezed. “If you need to leave—”

“No,” he said quickly, then slowed down and smiled. “I’m staying. I’m not missing anything else.”

She gave his hand another encouraging squeeze, then the last call for everyone to take their seats was announced. They walked into the auditorium, one he’d never been in before as it was four years old. Susan had held some seats for them, as promised. 

“This is Susan, Mary’s mother,” Lorena introduced them as they sat down.

Garcia shook her hand and gave his best charming smile. “Nice to meet you, again.”

They shared a good chuckle at that, Garcia always knowing how to disarm a room, literally and metaphorically. He had been doing that a lot lately. Playing it off as if it wasn’t that big of a deal. So what if he can’t remember some specific details over the past few years? It’s not like his family was murdered and he stole a time machine and spent years tearing across history trying to save them, even if it could have cost him his soul.

Her husband would put up the façade that he needed to. Lorena just hoped the hidden foundations weren’t crumbling into dust.

…

Flynn went to get the car after the graduation ceremony. He needed a few minutes to stop holding himself together. He sat in the driver’s seat and collapsed. It had taken everything in him not to break down in front of the whole school and ruin Iris’ graduation ceremony. His daughter… graduating elementary school… because she was alive…

His hand nearly crushed Lorena’s as he needed something to ground him. She let him squeeze her palm as her nails dug into the flesh of his own. The sharp pain reminding him that this was real. He may have missed so much, but there was a whole lifetime yet to go.

Taking a deep breath and seeing that the parking lot was starting to empty out around him, Flynn finally turned on the car. He needed to pick up his girls. That very thought made him laugh in relief. Surely one day he’d stop asking himself if he was living in a dream.

…

Flynn let Lorena take the lead on the house hunting because she and his other self had already done the preliminary work. He stayed in a hotel through the process, Iris joining him when it came time to pack up the house. He did offer to help, and she told him that keeping Iris from being underfoot was helping. And he would be doing his fair share of the unpacking once they moved into their new place.

There was also a lot of catching up he had to do with Iris. Flynn had taken an extended leave of absence from his company, for medical health reasons. Though, the security firm was so well managed by Stiv that they almost didn’t need him. Which was serendipitous seeing as Flynn wanted to spend as much time with his daughter as he could.

She had gotten so big. Already gone through several phases. But she still enjoyed riding horses and going camping. So they went out to a horse ranch several times and just road horses through the California countryside. 

For a few blessed minutes, he could pretend that everything was okay.

In mid-June the three of them walked into an empty house, movers unloading the truck behind them on the street. It was a good space, a great school district, and nice, high ceilings.

And no blood stains, visible or not.

The first day was spent mostly getting everything into the house. They started with Iris’ bedroom, letting the girl go wild with decorating the room as they moved in the furniture and boxes. One of the last things they did before dinner was get the bed’s set up in the master and guest room.

“You going to be comfortable staying in here?” Lorena asked him as she laid the linens for the guest bed on the dresser.

“Yeah.” Flynn tried to smile but there was no getting around the fact that other than some basic handholding and hugs—and the time he cried himself to sleep in her lap—they hadn’t really touched each other since, well, since he came back and kissed her, believing he would walk away from her forever.

Sharing a bed just felt premature at this stage.

“I’m going to go order dinner,” she said and then made her exit.

It’s not that Flynn didn’t want to be with her, to kiss her and hold her, to make love to her and wake up to her ice-cold feet against his shins. But they were both remembering people who didn’t exist anymore. Both had grown over the years, but they hadn’t grown together.

And there was no denying that, in a way, Lorena lost her husband. He died, replaced by a semi-stranger. The time Flynn spent in the hotel, he knew Lorena used it to grieve what she lost. Oh, she would never hold it against him, never say it out loud, but Flynn knew her too well. She missed the man who left her, and she needed to get through that before she could consider being with the man he was now. 

If she even wanted him to stay.

Flynn shut the door and then sunk down onto the mattress, pulling out his phone. 

“Flynn?”

“Lucy.”

“How’d moving day go?” she asked him.

“Good. Like a military operation.” He wasn’t lying, but it wasn’t why he was calling, and it was obvious in his voice.

“What’s on your mind?” Lucy prompted him. 

“I…” he let out a long breath. “Am I making a mistake?”

“Hmm, you have to be more specific than that.” Lucy wasn’t going to coddle him, and he appreciated that about their friendship.

“Moving in with them,” he said the words out loud and made them real. “Trying to be a family again? Trying to… to be with Lorena again.”

“You’re having cold feet,” she replied with a little ‘uh huh’ to her voice. “It’s natural. You have a daunting task ahead of you. But Iris has taken all the changes in stride and Lorena supports you, we all do. You’re not alone anymore.”

“Yeah…” Sometimes he wondered if those days were easier, when he only had a single focus: revenge. Even his own life was forfeit to that cause. Then Lucy had to come along and remind him that he could still be a father again. “But maybe it’s better if I didn’t stay here.”

“And what purpose would that serve?”

“I…” Flynn closed his eyes and took a breath.

“Are you still in love with Lorena?” Lucy asked him simply.

“Yes,” was the simple answer, but life is never simple. “I love the woman she was years ago.”

“Are you more afraid you won’t love her now, or she won’t love who you are now?” Lucy always had a way of reading him, of seeing through him. That’s why he came to her for answers.

“You know that feeling, when you’re about to jump out of a plane for the first time?” It was an old memory but one he’d never forget. “You know it will be okay, you’ve checked your chute, but there is still that chance that everything will go wrong and you’ll hit the dirt and that’ll be it… and the worst part… you’ll have plenty of time to think about it without being able to change your fate.”

“Sounds like typical anxiety,” she said with a sigh. “Flynn. You and Lorena love each other, and are going into this eyes open. If it doesn’t work out, you won’t hit solid Earth, you’ll fall lightly into a tall pile of hay.”

Lucy was right, of course. If he and Lorena couldn’t rebuild what they lost, then they knew when to cut their losses to make sure the one person who mattered the most in this, Iris, grew up happy and loved, even if her parents were apart. But he didn’t want to be apart. He literally ached to have his family whole again.

The thing is, he couldn’t force the pieces back together if they didn’t fit anymore. 

“Just remember,” Lucy spoke softly, “you’re allowed to have this. To be happy. Don’t give up hope.”

He was allowed to be happy… he supposed if he repeated that enough, he might have half a chance of believing it.

…

Lorena sat in the church pew long after services had ended.

Learning about time travel, learning that she and Iris had died and been brought back to life, her husband irrevocably changed by the experience… it all tested her beliefs and her faith.

Was this a test for her, or for all of humanity and she was simply caught up in it?

As she was unlikely to receive an answer, she had to focus on what she could control. 

She and Garcia may be two different people than who they were to each other only a few months ago, but she still loved him, that hadn’t changed. The kicker was that strong relationships are built on more solid ground than love alone. Repairs can be made, but there are times when you just have to bulldoze the whole building and start again. 

Sometimes it’s uneconomical to tear it down, so it’s left to sit abandoned.

Right now they were in that assessment phase, both looking for signs of damage. Would they survive this? Well, as Alexander Dumas said… “Wait, and hope.” And if there was one thing Flynn’s did well, it was hope.

…

When you move into a new house, you have a housewarming party, it’s what you do. Lorena went full _The Devil Wears Prada_ and made Flynn a book of everyone who would be coming. It included all the details she knew about their relationships.

Social media was a godsend. It filled in a lot of blanks with photos and selfies giving him a glimmering idea of what had happened at such-n-such’s birthday party. As long as he had some details, he could play off the rest as part of his brain clot memory loss. So far no one seemed to suspect he actually had no memory of the last six years. Well, not of this timeline.

“Nice place,” Rufus said as he casually sipped on a glass of punch. “Though I expected more guns.”

“There is a child in the house.” Flynn gave him a grave expression.

“Like Iris doesn’t already know how to field strip an AK-47?” Rufus snorted.

“Assault weapons are for when she’s older,” Lorena said, returning from checking on the snacks.

“Her age group is small caliber and bolt action,” Flynn added, smiling at Rufus’ blank expression.

“I’ll teach her how to make thermite and C4 later,” Lorena kept going, as amused as he was. “Though I have showed her how to make a gasoline bomb using a rubber-band as a delayed trigger.”

Rufus looked between them. “Man, I don’t know which one of you is scarier.”

“She is.” “I am.” They said in unison.

“Yeah, that tracks.” Rufus took another sip of punch.

Flynn glanced at Lorena who was looking at him with as much mirth in her eyes as he felt. He wanted to kiss her, but a little spike of fear ran through him. What if it wasn’t wanted? What if he made a fool of himself around all these people?

“I’m going to go talk to Susan.” Lorena moved towards her friend.

“Now I know what she sees in you,” Rufus said when Lorena was out of earshot. “You’re both a little bit off, aren’t you?”

Flynn gave him a dour expression and Rufus just smiled.

“Hey, I ran into Wyatt at the punchbowl,” Rufus changed the subject. “Surprised you invited him.”

“I didn’t,” Flynn admitted. “It was Lorena’s idea.”

That confused the young man. “Really?”

“She pointed out that he _was_ part of the team that, um, completed the mission.” Flynn couldn’t say out loud the specifics of time travel or saving their lives because only a handful of people in attendance knew. If anyone asked how any of the Time Team knew Flynn, their response would be that they worked on a large classified project together. Which, again, wasn’t technically a lie. “Wyatt did his part of the plan we made, just like the rest of us.”

“Yeah, but…” Rufus trailed off, glancing towards were Lucy was talking to one of Lorena’s coworkers. One who specialized in pre-industrial era architecture. 

“She asked Lucy first,” Flynn assured him, then sighed. “Lorena is Catholic, believes in forgiveness and making oneself better. But if that person is shunned, it’s hard for them to make amends and it gives them little reason to do better.”

“Huh,” Rufus said thoughtfully. “And I suppose it helps that if he tries anything with Lucy, there are five people in this house who will turn him out onto his ass.”

“At least five.” Flynn chuckled.

His wife very much believed in forgiveness and redeeming oneself. That’s probably why she was giving him this chance, even if she kept insisting there was nothing for her to forgive. Rittenhouse was the one to blame, and what they did was beyond even her capacity to forgive.

The issue for Flynn was… he couldn’t forgive himself, and there was plenty for him to feel guilty about.

…

Iris was humoring him. His eleven-year-old daughter was quietly not saying anything because she didn’t want to point out that he had already taught her how to make a campfire, and she was actually quite skilled at it now.

He sat back from the stone circle, trying not to feel disappointed. _Of course_ he had already showed her these things. According to Lorena, they went camping several times a year. Sometimes all three of them, sometimes just him and Iris now that she was older. So after six years, was there anything he hadn’t taught her how to do?

“It’s okay, _tata_ ,” Iris said, sitting down next to him. “I know you forgot. You can show me again.”

His heart shattered into a million pieces, but somehow still held its shape. 

“But I’ve forgotten all of it,” he replied sadly. “You wouldn’t want to repeat the last six years, would you?”

She looked very thoughtful for a pre-teen. “You haven’t taught me how to scale a fish.”

“What?” He hadn’t?

“You were going to,” Iris explained. “But the first time we couldn’t catch big enough fish, so we kept throwing them back. The second trip was cut short because a forest fire was getting too close. Then the last time, I…”

Flynn smoothed down her hair as she had become squirrely. “What’s wrong, _mala cvijeta_?”

She had made herself upset, and at her age, she wasn’t quite used to the feeling. So he kept petting her hair and being encouraging. Letting her know she wasn’t upsetting him, if that mattered.

“I… I was mad at you,” she eventually confessed. “I wanted to go to a concert with Lily and Jeannie but you and mom said I was too young to go. You took me camping to make up for it and I refused to do anything.”

For all the good things that happened in the past six years, there were bad ones as well. Strangely, he missed those moments too.

He wrapped his arm around his daughter and hugged her close. The little girl was on the verge of tears from her confession. So he kissed the top of her head and let her know it was okay. Everything was going to be okay. 

Well, maybe not everything, but enough.

…

Occasionally, it was easy to forget. They would set down to dinner, or be hanging out in the living room, or Garcia and Iris could be playing outside… and Lorena wouldn’t even know the difference.

They’d share a laugh and smiles, only to have the moment shudder to a halt when one tries to reach for the other. Or she’d say something and realize that he didn’t have that conversation with her last year. He’d get a far off look in his eye, remembering some horrible event of an erased timeline.

He wasn’t as different as she worried he’d be. She thought there would be more to have to learn about this new Garcia. But for all his talk and concerns, it was still him, only a bit more worn than he had been a few months ago. Sometimes he seemed to surprise himself just how much of the last six years he could figure out because he knew her just as well as she knew him. 

For as much as they had changed, there was so much that remained the same.

But things _had_ changed.

Lorena was reading a book as she lounged on the sofa. Flynn was putting Iris to bed so she had the downstairs to herself. Even after a lifetime of doing it, she never notices when she starts to hum. Usually it’s when she’s trying to concentrate, distracting some part of her brain so she can focus on what’s in front of her.

She got to the end of a chapter and was debating if she should try to read the next one, or if this was a good stopping point. That’s when she realized Garcia had been watching her as he stood in the kitchen.

“Sorry,” she said as she sat up. “You hate it when I hum.”

He looked shocked for a moment, then admitted, “I missed it, so much, when I thought I’d never hear it again.”

Lorena didn’t know how to respond to that, a lump forming in her throat. The unspeakable amount of loss that he went through. Sometimes she wondered if it would be better for her to remove herself from his life so that he wouldn’t have the constant reminders. But that wasn’t her decision to make.

Garcia went to the cabinet and pulled out a couple of wine glasses. She watched him pour two glasses of red nearly methodically, as if he was forcing himself through each step, constantly reminding himself this was real. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him do it, wouldn’t be the last, but at least it felt more infrequent now.

He walked over and handed her a glass, then sat down on the opposite end of the sofa.

“I’ve been spending so much time with Iris,” he said quietly, looking down into the glass and not at her. “I feel like I might be ignoring you too much.”

“You’re not ignoring me,” she assured him. “You have a lot to catch up on, you’re focusing your energy.”

He glanced up at her with a sad puppy dog look in his eyes. She knew what he was going to say, that he didn’t deserve her kindness and patience. And he knew that she would tell him that her kindness and patience was her to give as she pleased, for however long she chose.

That conversation was had, passing silently between them. Then he said, “I was thinking that maybe I should make more of an effort to carve out some time, just for the two of us.”

“Like, a date?” Lorena asked, then took a drink of the wine to cover her facial expressions. His words made her hopeful, but also made her fearful because what if they realized they weren’t compatible anymore? She couldn’t be sure which emotion would play on her face.

His eyes flashed as if he hadn’t realized that was what he was asking. Typical. Their first date almost didn’t happen because he couldn’t quite get the words out and she had to take control of the situation. She wondered if maybe that hadn’t changed. She’d been trying to give him his space, but should she climb up into the front seat and grab ahold of the steering wheel from time to time?

“Yeah.” His lips formed a small smile. “Like a date.”

It was really what they needed, and she cursed herself for not thinking of it sooner. They couldn’t pick up where they left off, they needed to go backwards and work forward again. This way they could both get back onto the same page.

“What are you reading?” he asked, gesturing to the book now laying on the sofa between them.

“Just rereading an old classic,” she replied, picking it up. “Did you happen to meet Agatha Christie?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he answered easily, and that was a good step. Just like his time spent fighting across the world, he couldn’t bury it all down. Some things in his psyche would never see the light of day, but the more that did, then the less heavy that burden would be. “I met several famous people. Not all of them under the best of terms. Houdini handcuffed me to a cabinet.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lorena laughed, taken slightly aback by the random comment.

He explained how he used Houdini to get him into a meeting place so he could take out several major Rittenhouse members who also happened to be some of History’s biggest dicks.

“Wait, which detonator did you use?” Lorena asked.

“A 388,” he answered with a grin.

“It’s nice to know you listen to me,” Lorena chuckled. She had gone to Sapper Training School when she was in the Army and she was always much better with explosives than firearms. So even though she put most of that behind her, she never did stop being a Sapper. “Was it a shaped charge?”

“Ah,” Garcia faltered and looked guilty. “It was a small space. I figured the concussive force would be enough.”

“But you want the peak of the concussion wave to hit the target,” she countered.

They both were smiling and laughing, it once again felt like old times. The two of them causally discussing the best way to cause mayhem. It was going well until he once again paused, his eyes glancing away.

She wanted to ask him what he was thinking about, what he was remembering. Would that be the right thing to do? The decision was made for her as his phone started to buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the name, then up at her. The trepidation in his eyes could only mean one thing.

“You’ve got this,” she said, leaning forward to put her hand on his knee.

He swallowed hard and swiped to answer the call. It didn’t seem to get any easier the more he did it. “Hey, Gabe.”

“Brat!” Gabriel’s voice came over the line. His accent was a bit strange, having been morphed by learning English in Texas, growing up in Croatia, and living most of his life in France. “Feeling any better?”

“Feeling about the same.” At least that answer was honest.

“So you still don’t remember you owe me $100 grand?” Gabe was unable to hide all the mirth in his voice.

“Pretty sure I’d remember that,” Garcia said dryly, a smile forming on his face despite himself.

A report seemed to be building between the brothers again. It was good to see how well Garcia was adapting to having a brother. They both had the same determined streak as their mother, and the same sense of humor too. 

But, with everything else, they were at the beginning of that journey, not the middle or the end. And Garcia was terrified that Gabe would discover the reason he was alive and resent him for it.

“Yes, well, at long as you don’t remember what happened in Marrakesh,” Gabe added.

“What happened in Marrakesh?” Garcia glanced up at her. Lorena shook her head, she had no idea what he was talking about. 

‘Another joke?’ she mouthed.

“Maybe you’ll remember by the time we get there,” Gabe didn’t miss a beat.

“Get here?” Garcia went back to the phone.

“Yes, we’ve decided we’re coming to yours for Christmas this year,” he explained. “Now, I know it’s a few months away, but we need to get the tickets, make arrangements, etc. I don’t know who all will be coming, but definitely mom and me.”

“Christmas?” Garcia cleared his throat. It was early-August now, Iris about to start back to school. “That sounds…” he glanced up at Lorena again who smiled encouragingly while giving his knee a squeeze. “I can’t wait.”

“Perfect!” Gabe said, then someone called his name. “Anyway, I got to go, it’s late for you and early for me. Some of us actually work for a living, you know?”

Garcia rolled his eyes. It was a very Southern thing to say, and he had heard his mother say it several times over the years, in his original timeline.

“I’ll get with you soon on the details, talk to you later, brat!”

“Later,” Garcia said as his brother hung up.

“It was going to happen eventually,” Lorena said, giving his knee another squeeze. “I’m still surprised your mother wasn’t on the next plane when we told her about the brain clot.”

“Yeah,” he replied thoughtfully, with a touch of pride. “She did interrogate me pretty hard about my health.”

Lorena resisted a chuckle. “Yes, she did. She’s a smart woman, she probably realized you needed space to heal first.”

He nodded, agreeing with her. Then his eyes glanced down to where her hand was still on his knee. Self-consciously, Lorena pulled back, and things were quiet for a moment as they both tried not to look at each other.

“Christmas,” Lorena managed to say. “It’ll be good for you to meet Gabe properly, and hug your mother again.”

He nodded, as if he was afraid of the words that might come out of his mouth. He needed a moment, so she sipped on her wine and waited patiently. 

“What…” Garcia glanced up. “What if he ends up not liking me?”

“Everyone likes you, hon.” Lorena smirked. “It’s your blessing and your curse.”

She grinned at the very dour expression he gave her. But he couldn’t hold it. He took a deep breath and sat his phone down. “Christmas feels so far away.”

“It’ll get here quicker than you think.”

…

“So, wait,” Flynn was staring at the list he brought up on his phone. “You need dress shoes, casual shoes, sports shoes, _and_ a pair of gym shoes? Why does your school require so many shoes?”

Iris shrugged, giving him a sarcastic expression that was far too familiar for his liking.

Sighing, they pushed their way to the shoe section. “If we can’t find what we need here, then we’ll have to hit a shoe store on the way home.”

“I only need new dress shoes and gym shoes,” Iris said as they walked along the department store path. “I have the others at home.”

When they found themselves standing in front of the five-foot-tall shelves lined with shoes, a thought struck him. He didn’t know what Iris’ shoe size was. It was such a simple thing that he should have known. His other self would know, but the last time he even thought about her shoes size was back in 2014.

This blindsided him, punching him in the bruised and sore spot of his psyche. Reminding him of what he lost, and why he lost it.

“I like these!” Iris said, holding up a pair of Mary Jane’s that were silver and sparkly.

He wanted to tell her no, they weren’t exactly all-purpose and practical. The urge to spoil her wared with his rational side as he feared the next one more minute, one more second.

“We can get them, but,” he added quickly, pausing at the bright smile that had plastered across her face as she clutched the sparkly shoes, “you need to get a plain pair too.”

“Thank you, _tata_!” she said as she dropped the silver shoes in the basket and then went back to the rack. 

He tried to convince himself that this didn’t constitute spoiling her. If she couldn’t find a plain pair to match then he would tell her to put the sparkly ones back. That was the plan, anyway. He wasn’t having much luck with plans lately.

Realizing she hadn’t even tried on the shoes, he leaned down and fetched them out of the basket. Checking the size, she had really grown in these past years. He wouldn’t be surprised if she eventually broke six foot, which was another blessing and a curse.

Glancing up, Iris was gone.

Cold dread swept across Flynn from out of nowhere, panic setting in instantly. He swirled around, trying to spot her, nausea crawling up his throat.

“Iris!” he bellowed out.

“ _Tata?_ ” Iris said from the other side of the shoe rack. He could see the top of her head now. She was standing up from where she clearly had been crouched, looking at the shoes on the bottom shelves.

The fact his daughter hadn’t been in any danger, had actually been doing exactly what he asked her to, didn’t wash away the adrenaline that was still surging through him. Nor did it ease the panic which had a vice grip on him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he sunk down onto one of the benches provided for customers changing their shoes. “Mirror, boots, socks, trainers, sign.” 

Iris was watching him as he tried to climb himself out of the panic attack, plain black shoes gripped in her hands. The only godsend was that she wasn’t looking at him in fear, only confusion and worry. Though that was perhaps bad enough in themselves.

After a minute she asked, “Are you okay?”

He carefully considered his answer as the fog cleared. “No, _mala cvijeta_. I’m a bit…” he didn’t want to use the word broken. “I’m out of place, all my pieces are wonky. I’m putting them back where they belong, but it’s going to take some time.”

She carefully moved to sit down beside him. “Anything I can do to help?”

The question broke him down even further. Never in a million years would he want to put that burden on his daughter. She was supposed to live a happy and carefree childhood. That had always been the plan, long before he ever heard the name Rittenhouse.

“ _Mala cvijeta_ , you are helping.” He smoothed down her hair and then pulled her into a side hug. “Just by being you, that’s helping.”

Iris gave him a slightly skeptical look, but after a moment of judging him, she seemed to accept his assessment. “You’ll get all your pieces back together, right?”

“I will,” he promised her, how could he not? He kissed her on the top of her head. “One day at a time.”

…

“I haven’t seen you this distracted on a date since the first time we went out after having Iris,” Lorena mused, and Flynn glanced up from the menu he wasn’t looking at.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, sitting the menu down. They were at a secluded table for two in the back of the restaurant where all exits were visible.

“Stop apologizing for things that don’t need apologies,” she told him, placing her hand on his. “It’s a natural response after what you went through. We just need to make sure it doesn’t morph into hyper-vigilance.”

Flynn took a deep breath and tried to clear his head of his worries. Iris was being babysat by a neighbor’s kid—well, now former neighbor since they moved—who had been doing so for the past two years. There was no reason to believe Iris was in any more danger than she was all those previous nights.

Of course, she should have been safe in her own bed only a few weeks from Christmas.

Lorena squeezed his hand, hard.

He took another deep breath. Iris was safe, probably gorging on pizza and annoying the babysitter with her latest K-Pop obsession. 

“So,” he said, clearing his mind and his throat, “you said we’ve never been here?”

“Nope.” Lorena smiled and looked around the place. It was an upscale restaurant on the San Diego wharf. All the seafood was freshly caught that day. “We had it on a to-do list, but never managed it.”

“Probably because the reservations were booked solid for a month,” he replied wryly.

“Pretty much.” She laughed, glancing up at the waiter who approached them.

“Are you ready to order?” she asked politely.

Flynn looked at Lorena, who looked at him, and grinned.

“I have an idea,” Lorena said. “Why don’t we order for each other?”

It was a test, of course it was, to see how much they still knew each other and what, if anything, had changed. He nodded his agreement, gesturing for her to go first.

“He will have the steamed mussels in white wine and garlic,” Lorena said with absolute surety. 

It’s what he would have picked. His paternal grandmother cooked them all the time when he was growing up. The mussels freshly caught by his grandfather. 

“And she will have,” he said, scanning the menu one last time, “the Cajun seafood stew, and tell the cook to make it extra spicy.”

“Excellent choices,” the waiter replied, scribbling down notes before leaving them to themselves for the next fifteen minutes or so.

“How did I do?” Flynn asked as he poured some more wine into their glasses. 

“Perfect.” Lorena smiled at him and it was enough.

…

They knew they were going to drink a bit, so might as well take advantage of a ride service. But a car could be hailed from anywhere, so Lorena decided that once they were done with their lovely dinner, they should take a walk.

The sun was down, the breeze was nice, and it was almost magical how the moon reflected off the water. They stopped and leaned against a railing that lined the boardwalk. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked him.

“I’m thinking you made a mistake, ordering the mussels in garlic,” he replied.

Lorena glanced at him sharply, the joviality dropping from her face. How badly had she misjudged him, and how much he had changed? He seemed to enjoy the food, finished off the plate even. 

“Why?” she trembled out.

He turned and looked at her, something intense in his eyes. A determination. He reached up to cradle her neck and then proceeded to kiss her. His breath smelt of garlic, but she was beyond caring about such a trivial thing.

She grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket as if she both wanted him closer, and didn’t want him to run away. He hadn’t kissed her in months, not since the night he returned from his alternate timeline. It was supposed to be a goodbye kiss, and she would be lying if some days she thought that it still might be.

But this, it was something new. Not quite the newness of their first kiss. Not quite the longing kisses of when he returned from missions. Not quite the familiarity of kisses past. 

When he pulled back, catching his breath, there was still intensity in his eyes, and also fear.

“Please tell me you plan on doing that again,” Lorena said between deep breaths.

Most of the fear washed out, but there was still the ever present worry that she would eventually reject him. “That’s, uh, very much the plan.”

“It’s a good plan.” She reached up to pull him into another kiss, letting him know that this was something that she wanted, garlic breath and all. Maybe that would drive home the point that she loved him, even after everything.

Yes, he had changed, but not the things that mattered. Not his heart.

They held each other and watched the waves slowly crash. For a perfect moment in time they existed without the weight of time itself on their shoulders. 

But then Lorena’s phone alarm started to beep. It was getting late and they had to get home. Back to the one person they loved more than each other. 

As they waited for the car to arrive, Garcia got a little fidgety. Never quite letting her go, one arm around her waist, but his hold on her seemed to be unsure. So she looked up at him and said, “Baby steps. I don’t expect anything from you tonight. We can take this slow.”

His lips tried to smile but something was definitely weighing on them. How he could go from so confident and suave to an absolute fumbling dork at the drop of the hat wasn’t anything new. Lorena found it quite endearing, really. She kissed him on the corner of his mouth and smiled encouragingly at him. 

The rideshare arrived and he reluctantly let her go. She reached for his hand when they got in and he held it all the way home. Once there, Lorena went to put Iris to bed, knowing the girl would not let herself go to sleep until her parents were home. Garcia paid the babysitter, then watched her get into her car and drive off safely. 

He set the alarm, shut down all the lights, and headed upstairs just in time to meet Lorena as she walked down the hall from Iris’ room.

She smiled at him, something light, she wanted to make it clear she didn’t expect _that_ from him, not at this stage. But she relished in the idea of cuddling under the covers with him again. She missed his warmth, his presence, so much. Even his damn snoring.

He stumbled, mentally, she could see it in his face. “Uh, sleep well,” he mumbled out, then made a beeline for the guest room he was sleeping in.

Lorena didn’t even get a chance to reply, to make it clear what she wanted, or lack thereof. Did he think she wanted more than he could give right now? Or maybe only sharing the bed was asking too much at this stage? Or was he having second thoughts about them, and tonight made him realize it this wasn’t where he wanted it be?

No, she wasn’t going to feel defeated by this. Tomorrow was another day. Even if tonight she felt so lonely in her big bed… which should be their bed.

…

Flynn screwed up, he was sure of it.

It’s not that he didn’t want to crawl into bed with Lorena. The only question that had been on his mind the whole ride back was just how far he wanted to take it. Sometimes it physically hurt him not to touch her, and now that he had held her and kissed her… he didn’t want to let go.

But the second he got to the top of the stairs… the second he was faced with the reality of what was about to happen… he choked. 

He berated himself for it once he got into his room, but he couldn’t work up the courage to go to her room and climb in beside her. Every time he considered it, it made him sick to his stomach from the anxiety and the fear. Eventually he fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, only to be plagued by some of the darker dreams that would visit him from time to time. Memories of a timeline now erased.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Lorena said when he came down to the kitchen for a late breakfast. It was clear Lorena and Iris had already eaten and let him sleep in. 

As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he tried to gauge her mood. She didn’t seem angry, or even disappointed, which he all considered good signs. But just how much had he set them back? Taking a gulp of hot caffeine, and then another, he summoned all his courage to find out.

“Morning,” he said and slid his arms around her. 

Lorena melted into his embrace easily, as she always had. And feeling her like this reminded him of all the years he went without her, longing to hold her again, if even for a moment. She tilted her head back and he took the invitation to kiss her softly, something suitable for the languidity of a Saturday morning.

“MMmmm, coffee breath is better than garlic breath,” she teased him.

He chuckled as he held her against him. It felt good, it felt right. The rest of the day carried on, well, he wouldn’t say per normal. He couldn’t remember a time he was so… touchy… he supposed the word was. Even at the beginning of their relationship, on their honeymoon, or when she was pregnant, he hadn’t felt such a need to touch her every chance he got. Even if it was just a brush of his fingers across her shoulder.

It was like now that he had given himself permission to do so, he couldn’t stop. He was rolling down a hill and only gaining speed. 

Until the end of the day when he slammed into a rockface. 

Lorena had welcomed him to join her in bed, to do whatever he was comfortable with, but again he choked. Anxiety turned his limbs to lead. He couldn’t walk toward her, the air was thicker than molasses between them. But he could walk away, back to his room, where he hung his head in his hands and tried to get his body under control. 

It went on like that for a few days, each time Lorena’s patience getting thinner and thinner. He could see it in her eyes. He was giving off such mixed signals and she just wanted to know where she stood. 

“It’s stupid,” he admitted to Lucy.

“Probably,” she replied with a shrug as they stood in her home office. 

They were supposed to be discussing the book she was writing regarding Rittenhouse and their effect on history before they were stopped, sans any mention of the time machine, of course. But eventually the subject turned to how Flynn was doing, and how his assimilation back into family life was coming along.

Lucy carefully poked and prodded him with just the right questions until he finally admitted that he was having anxiety attacks at the thought of just crawling into bed with Lorena.

“But just because it’s stupid doesn’t mean it’s invalid,” Lucy pointed out, pinning another information card to her board.

Lucy continued placing her cards and making notes. She was attempting to finalize the outline and he was supposed to be helping. He hoped that she would change the subject and start discussing Rittenhouse again. But instead she stayed silent as she did her work, waiting for him to be the one to speak. She knew exactly what she was doing.

Flynn let out a deep sigh and sat down on the arm of the sofa she had in her office. “The last time I went to sleep in our bed, with her… I woke up to two gunshots.”

Lucy put the cards down and turned to him, a sympathetic look on her face. “You’re afraid you will do so again?”

“I told you it was stupid.” He shook his head and cursed himself for even mentioning it.

“You went through a lot,” Lucy told him, “and your mind did what it had to, to keep you from breaking. It shuffled all that fear and anxiety into something that, at the time, you wouldn’t be experiencing.”

It cut through his heart how much she was right. 

Even after he learned time travel was real and he could save them, he never once thought he’d share a bed with Lorena again—platonic, sexual, or otherwise—because he was going to leave her after how badly he had failed her. But now that he had a chance to be with her again, his body was reminding him of how much pain he experienced the last time. Like reaching for the stove top, you pause because previously you got burned.

Only this burner put out the heat of a thousand suns.

“Lorena deserves more than a broken man who can’t be there for her.” Flynn sighed, pubbing his eyes to drive away the pressure in his head. “I never should have kissed her if I couldn’t follow through.”

Something hit his shoulder. He glanced up to see an eraser bounce across the floor. He looked at Lucy who had her arms crossed, looking perturbed.

“Nice shot,” he said wryly.

“I was aiming for your head.”

He chuckled despite everything.

“Flynn, you know what I’m going to say, don’t you?” Lucy continued to look at him like a disappointed teacher.

Again, she was right, he did know what she was going to say. He could see the words floating out there in the ether of his mind. But they were scattered, likely to dissolve into smoke if he reached for them. 

“Tell Lorena what the issue is,” Lucy said when it was clear he couldn’t. “She’s not going to hate you, think less of you, think you’re broken. But she _is_ going to start getting pissed once her patience wears out if you’re not communicating with her.”

He should, yes, but the part of his brain that told him he was failure, a monster that didn’t deserve to be happy, screamed so loud. It was the same voice that wanted to prove her wrong when he struggled to kill John Rittenhouse. He was hanging off an abyss and it seemed so much easier to let go and fall than to try to climb back up.

He was still climbing, and the abyss was following him.

“What…” he licked his lips in thought. “What if I can never share a bed with her again? What kind of husband would I be?”

“Okay, Flynn, you know as well as I do that, historically speaking, husbands and wives didn’t always sleep together in the same bed.” Lucy was completely unimpressed with him. “It’s not a requirement, and in some cases, even helps the marriage, especially when one of them snores so loudly they alert the British to our presence.”

“It was winter! I was coming down with a cold!” he tried to defend himself.

Lucy snorted. “Honestly, I’m impressed Lorena got any sleep with you sawing down redwood’s next to her.”

“She learned to tune me out,” Flynn grumbled.

“Exactly,” Lucy said with exasperation. “She adapted. Just as I’m sure you adapted to some of her annoying traits.”

“This is more than just…” Flynn went for the first things that came to mind, “Lorena’s ice-cold feet.” Which now that he said it, he missed them, where before he simply tolerated them. Just like her humming. Did she miss his snoring?

“You know the point I’m making here,” Lucy sighed. “You know what the problem is. You need to tell Lorena so you can both decide where to go from here.”

He thought about that for a moment. “And what if that’s the final straw that breaks us?”

“I highly doubt it, Flynn.” Lucy smiled softly at him. “Because you’ve been saying that for the past few months at every change and it’s yet to happen. You’re bracing for an impact that isn’t coming. And if you stay tense like that, then something in you is going to snap.”

…

Lorena wasn’t usually this passive. Years ago, when she realized Garcia was too awkward to make the first move, she didn’t even hesitate in making the move on him. Then when her military service was up, she did what was best for her, taking a job in the Army Corps of Engineers. She made no secret that she wanted him to join her when his tour ended, if that was what he wanted too.

That was always the kicker, she never made him do anything he didn’t want to. She could see when he was psyching himself out, or stumbling awkwardly like the dork he was. So she simply took the reins and got them there. 

Everything was different this time. She could tell he wanted to be with her. His touches, the soft sighs. It would be nothing for her to grab his hand and pull him into the bedroom where he wanted to be. Start with just a cuddle, see where things progressed. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. 

Garcia had gone through so much. So many years of her being dead. Of convincing himself that she would reject him. Did that mean she should make it very clear, without question, that she still wanted him? Or was everything too fragile and she needed to let him go at his own pace?

She hated feeling like this, unsure of everything. But she was positive that whatever Garcia was feeling, he hated it even more.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Susan told her as they sat in a local café, eating lunch. “It’s not like you had any control over his brain clot, nor the memory loss it did.”

“But I have control over myself,” Lorena reminded her. “What I choose to do, what I choose not to.”

Susan sighed and sat her fork down. “Life is full of right and wrong decisions. But that isn’t the same as the best or worst decisions. Right now you’re doing what is best. Only the future will tell you if it was right.”

Lorena became very interested in her tea. Her friend was right, of course, but that didn’t stop her growing worry and anxiety. 

“Garcia still sleeping in the guest room?” Susan asked and Lorena’s eyes snapped up. “I take that as a yes.”

“He needs time,” Lorena repeated what had become a mantra. “Losing memories like that, you lose a lot of yourself.”

“Are you saying he’s not your husband anymore?” She asked softly.

“No, I…” What was she saying? What made sense in a world without time travel where her husband lived through her death and experienced a grieving process mired in self-loathing? “I don’t know. We love each other, but, we’re not the same people we remember.”

“Sounds like you get to fall in love all over again,” Susan was a tad wistful. 

“Yeah.” Lorena already had.

Patience, that was all she needed, and she had an abundance of it when she required it. She wasn’t giving up on Garcia, or on their marriage. She just wished she knew what to do. 

Lorena had mused on that conundrum the rest of the day. Still no answers. She was in the kitchen, getting dinner ready when Garcia returned from Lucy’s. “How’s the book coming along?” 

“The outline is finalized,” he replied, leaning against the counter. “Now it’s a matter of filling in the details.”

“I do not envy the amount of research coming her way.” 

“She enjoys it.” Garcia chuckled.

“Fair.” Lorena continued with what she was doing. She grabbed the chef’s knife to cut up the vegetables for the salad. She thought he would go check on Iris who they could hear doing her homework in the living room. Instead he sat at the kitchen island and watched her for a few minutes.

“Lorena,” he said in a ‘we need to talk’ kind of tone and her heart fell down into her stomach. “About the last few nights.”

“Yes?” she tried to say casually as she put everything down and gave him her whole attention. She’d respect whatever he was about to say, even if it was that he realized he didn’t want to be with her. As much as it would break her heart, at least she’d know.

“I keep running off, away from you, but it’s nothing to do with you, it’s about me,” he stopped when he realized what he said. He closed his eyes and did a mental face palm. It was actually kind of adorable, which may have made her feel worse. “Let me try that again. The reason I run away, is because I’m having… flashbacks, for a lack of a better word. The last time we shared a bed, you and Iris died. I know it’s stupid, but I just… get this horrible feeling when we get up there.”

“It’s not stupid.” Lorena reached across the island and took his hand, giving him her support no matter what. “PTSD does things like that to people. The good thing is… sometimes just talking about it can help to minimize its affects.”

“I should have told you sooner,” he mumbled out.

“You told me when you were ready.” She squeezed his hand, relief washing over her. “And now we can work forward. Figure out what we’re going to do.”

“I want you, Lorena,” he replied with so much emotion it made her heart hurt now that it was back in her chest where it belonged. “But I won’t devolve our relationship into a series of, uh, booty-calls. You deserve more than that.”

She pouted, unable to help herself. “But you have such a lovely booty.”

That had the desired effect of breaking his melancholy and he laughed. 

“Sex is only one part of many in a relationship,” she told him, walking around the island to stand next to him. “It’s technically not even a requirement.”

He wrapped his arms around her, laying his head against her chest cause he’s so damn tall. 

“Are you afraid of this?” she asked, brushing her hand down his hair, all the way to the nape.

“No,” he was barely audible. 

“Then as long as we have this,” this spark, this draw, this need, “then we’ll be okay.”

…

Lorena told him she had an idea. He figured it couldn’t make things worse. So when the evening wore down and it was time to put Iris to bed, he got ready to go to sleep. He went through his routine, putting on a t-shirt and pajama pants.

Taking a deep breath, he walked out into the hallway and only made it a few steps before the anxiety started to kick in. It took everything not to run back into his room, though he still had plenty of time to do so.

A moment later, Lorena walked out of Iris’ room. She had a blanket in one hand, whilst her other was holding onto a sleepy Iris. The girl was clutching her pillow, almost burying her head in it to sleep where she stood. 

Lorena handed him the blanket, then grabbed his free hand. “Come on.”

Anxiety continued to creep up on him, but he let himself get pulled along. He didn’t think he’d take the steps under his own volition, to be honest. Lorena’s grip tightened as they entered her bedroom, though he still could have easily ran away. He was caught in a whirlpool of emotions with no idea which way he was going. There was fear in him, but his girls were safe, they were right there in front of him, alive.

They crawled into bed, him and Lorena under the covers with Iris between them, wrapped in her own blanket. The girl was out only seconds after her head hit the pillow. 

Lorena reached across Iris and took his hand. “We’re here, and we’ll be here in the morning. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

All he could do was nod. 

She closed her eyes but continued to hold his hand. His mind was running a mile a minute and sleep was eluding him. If he closed his eyes, would he wake up to them gone? 

After a while, Lorena fell asleep, he could tell because her grip loosened, and her breathing slowed. His pulse continued to race, his body tense. He didn’t get any sleep through the night. At about five am, he may have passed out from exhaustion for half an hour or so, but that was it. As soon as Iris started to stir, he was wide awake.

“I’m gonna get ready for school,” Iris said as she bounced off the bed with entirely too much energy.

That left him with Lorena, who was looking at his dark rimmed eyes. “Feeling okay?”

“Better than I thought I’d be,” he was honest. The anxiety was still there but it had quieted down. He got through a whole night and nothing happened to his girls. He knew, rationally, that of course they would be okay. He just wished the rest of him would catch up to that fact.

“You can go back to sleep,” she said. “I’ll get Iris to school and take care of everything.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled tiredly and started to throw the blanket off. He was still on an extended absence from work, though he kept up with the going-ons via Stiv.

“No.” Lorena grabbed the blanket. “I mean you can stay here… if you want to.”

Did he? Just because it was daylight now, was there still a chance to hear gunshots as he slept? 

“I’ll give it a try,” he said, making no promises as he laid back down.

She gave him an encouraging smile before getting out of bed. She took Iris’ blanket and pillow and folded them up, placing them on a chair. Her next stop was the attached bathroom. He listened to her move around, the toilet flush, the sink run, things get moved about. Then she was out, walking into the hallway to go make sure Iris was getting ready, and getting breakfast.

He listened to all the sounds. Muffled voices. Squeaky steps. The fridge and cabinet doors. Signs of life. He kept having to take deep breaths and tell himself that everything was fine. There would be no silent shots.

Lorena came back into the room. She grabbed some things from the closet and dresser, trying to be quiet about it, but surely she knew he wasn’t asleep yet? She went into the bathroom and he heard water running. Memories of sharing the shower with her long ago popped up to distract him from his worries. 

The sounds of Lorena getting ready mixed with the sounds of Iris going through her own routine. Several minutes later, Iris was running back down the stairs hollering that she was ready. He heard a cabinet door open and then the clonk of a toaster. She’d gotten herself another PopTart when she didn’t think anyone was looking.

A couple minutes after that, Lorena exited the bathroom. He had his eyes closed and felt Lorena moving close to him. The fresh scents of her shampoo, deodorant, and perfume mixed harmoniously into a scent that was distinctly hers. He almost forgotten what it was like to smell it this fresh and strong.

“I’m going to drop Iris off,” she said, apparently knowing he was still awake. “Then I need to head into work for a bit. I’ll be home at lunchtime.”

Before he could reply, she leaned down and kissed him on the lips. Something sweet and gentle, as if this was any other day. Although the kiss dragged on longer than it normally would, it was over too quickly. His eyes popped open and she was smiling softly at him. 

“Get some sleep,” she said, slowly pulling back and exiting the room.

Flynn heard her walk down the stairs and talk to Iris. The sound of the front door closing was almost deafening. After the car drove off, he turned to his side, head half buried into the pillow that smelt so much of Lorena. Vetiver and lavender. He inhaled a deep breath, and finally drifted off to sleep.

…

Every night, Garcia got better. He fell asleep sooner and sooner, Iris tucked safely between them. But they couldn’t do this forever. So after a couple days of Garcia sleeping through the night, Lorena decided it was time to move to the next step in their makeshift immersion therapy.

“There’s no difference,” she told him as he sat on the edge of her—their—bed. “It’s the same as when you were sleeping in the guest room. Iris was safe then, and she’s safe now.”

He nodded, and it was quite clear his pulse had picked up. He was trying not to have an anxiety attack, though often that wasn’t a choice. She told him if it became too much, he could leave. This was to help him heal, not break him down further.

They crawled under the covers, sitting up as they looked at each other. 

“Is there anything you want me to do?” she asked him. “We can keep the light on. Um, we could snuggle or stay apart. Whatever you need.”

After a thoughtful moment, he replied. “Can I hold you, uh, spoon?”

“Of course.” 

They ended up turning off the lights, the room not quite pitch dark with some streetlight shining through the windows. She laid down and turned onto her side, facing away from him. He moved up behind her and wrapped his arm around her. It was a tight, protective kind of embrace.

“Try to sleep,” she told him, though that may be a lost cause.

Silently they laid there, every noise the house made magnified. She prayed that Iris didn’t cough. She usually didn’t, but Lorena left her some water at her bedside in case she felt any dryness in her throat. Lorena tried to cover all the angles, hoping there wasn’t something she missed.

Over an hour passed and she could feel he was still wide awake, clutching at her as if afraid she’d disappear. Sleep was beginning to overtake her and she wouldn’t fight it. He needed to know that she felt safe, because she was safe. 

History would not be repeating itself.

When she woke up in the morning, he was still holding onto her for dear life. He also hadn’t slept a wink.

“Hey,” she said sleepily as she turned around to face him. 

“Hey,” his eyes were dark rimmed again, some residue of tears on his cheeks. 

“Still here.” She placed a gentle kiss on his lips. That nearly broke him again as he trembled and held her closer.

They stayed like that until they heard Iris get up. She left him in the bed as she got Iris her breakfast and ready for school. This time, he was fully asleep by the time she left, so she brushed away the hair that had fallen into his eyes and kissed his forehead. 

Progress was being made, and that was enough.

…

Lorena was sitting on the sofa, reading over some reports and calculations. Normally she’d do so in her office, but she needed a change of scenery.

“Mom.” Iris came and sat down next to her.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Lorena didn’t take her eyes off the documents, expecting a simple question and no, she could not have another Chocodile before dinner. Curse Rufus for introducing those to her.

“Preeta is having a Halloween sleepover party,” Iris started to explain and it got Lorena’s full attention. “The plan is to play games and eat candy and tell spooky ghost stories.”

It sounded like fun, and Lorena was glad Iris was making new friends in middle school, but, “What about trick or treating?”

Iris had the same puppy dog look of unsurety that her father would get. “We were all gonna trick-or-treat together.”

“I see.” Normally Lorena wouldn’t have anything against it. She met Preeta’s parents a few times already, and they were responsible types. Iris was old enough now to start getting some measure of self-responsibility herself. 

“I know _tata_ doesn’t remember the last Halloweens,” Iris continued, too much warring on her face for someone so young. “I like going trick-or-treating with him, I really do, but I _really_ want to go to the party.”

Lorena smoothed down Iris’ hair and kissed her forehead. “It’s a sleepover, right? Maybe we can trick-or-treat together before you go to the party?”

There was a slight grimace on Iris’ face, but she ultimately nodded. “I can ask what time the games start.”

“No need,” Garcia said, sneaking up behind them. She thought he was in his office, but apparently he’d gone to the kitchen without her noticing. “We can skip trick-or-treating this year. You can go straight to the party.”

“Can I _tata_?” Iris got wide eyed and she stood up.

“Wouldn’t want you to miss out on anything with your friends,” he replied with a smile. “And maybe you can tell them your _baka’s_ tale about the _štrigon_ she banished when she was not much older than you. You remember the story?”

Iris nodded profusely, excited to tell her friends about her grandmother banishing a vampire… or that’s the story anyway.

“I have an idea,” Lorena spoke up. “After dinner, why don’t we light the fire pit, toast marshmallows, and go over it one more time? Just to make sure we have all the details.”

“Yes!” Iris agreed, bouncing slightly on her feet. “Thank you, _tata_.” 

The girl ran to her father and hugged him. He returned the hug, kissing the top of her head. “You’re very welcome, _mala cvijeta_.”

After Iris ran off, elated at the prospect of the party, Lorena looked at Garcia. Her expression was her question.

Garcia sat down beside her, a little deflated. “Going to a party like that, it’s a part of growing up. Being with friends, learning independence, and how to hopefully make good choices. I can’t take that away from her just to try to latch onto a single memory.”

Lorena didn’t know how to respond to that, not verbally anyway. She snuggled into him, letting him know that she supported his decision and the reasoning behind it. He couldn’t get back everything he lost, and they both knew it. It didn’t mean it hurt any less.

He wrapped his arm around her and they held each other, Lorena tucked into him. It was a move that only a few weeks before almost felt unattainable. But the immersion therapy seemed to be working. He was more confident with expressing himself around her, romantic wise. 

They still hadn’t gotten past the kissing and cuddling stage. But that was okay. Like Orpheus’ journey, if they were impatient, everything they worked so hard to rebuild between them could disappear into smoke.

“We’ll still pass out candy,” he said as he slowly ran his fingers up and down her shoulder.

“We should decide what our costumes will be,” she replied with a light purr in her voice. “I could be a 20’s flapper girl, and you could wear a very nice suit…”

He chuckled at her insinuation, but said, “I met Al Capone, and Rufus was shot, nearly died.”

“Oh dear.” Lorena grimaced and tried to think of any non-time-period based costumes. “I suppose we could go classic: witch and warlock.”

“Lucy and Rufus were nearly hanged at the Salem Witch Trials,” he replied blankly.

Lorena was beginning to regret her decision not to make him tell her every little detail of what happened in those six years. Not everything he was ready to relive, and she knew it would be a matter of time before he could talk about it. That time was apparently now, and that wasn’t nothing. 

“Well,” she considered more options, “we can dress as _štrigon_.”

Garcia stiffened just slightly, like he was debating striking that idea down as well. Three for three.

“Let me guess.” Lorena sighed and sat up. “You met Bram Stoker and he was as big an asshole as I suspect he was.”

“Ah, no, not Stoker.” Garcia cleared his throat. “But I did run into John William Polidori. Nice guy, but it was awkward.”

“Polidori? The writer of _The Vampyre_?” It was the _original_ original vampire novel, though she hadn’t read it in years.

“Yes,” Garcia answered, keeping a completely straight face. “Lord Byron was there too. Had his eyes on Wyatt’s ass the whole time.”

“Oh, no!” Lorena burst out into laughter, covering her face with both her hands. Her ribs started to hurt, and she was on the verge of having trouble breathing.

“What’s funny?” Iris asked.

“We’ll explain when you’re older,” Garcia replied quickly.

“Weirdos.”

Lorena sat back and tried to catch her breath. It took a minute or two, but she managed to compose herself to finish the conversation. “I am not making any more suggestions. You decide.”

“Okay,” he said and got thoughtful as he looked at her. Was he imagining her as his Eurydice? Only with a happier ending to the story? Or was she perhaps Penelope and he finally returned after his odyssey?

That question led her on a train of thought which ended on a different question, one she hadn’t asked him. Every time she thought about it, she talked herself out of asking, telling herself it didn’t matter. It really didn’t. But now that things were progressing between them, having the answer could put several things into context. But it might also send the wrong message and undo all their work. 

“Uh.” Garcia licked his lips. “How about Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy?”

She smiled. “Perfect.”

…

Iris had fallen asleep outside as they sat around the fire pit. Flynn carried her up to her room, got her shoes off, and tucked her into bed. He allowed himself a moment to marvel. After everything that happened, he was standing in her room, tucking a blanket around her.

One day that feeling might wear off, but it wasn’t going to be any time soon.

Being that it was late, he headed to his own bedroom, the guest one. He did his nightly routine, got into his sleep clothes, and then headed for Lorena’s bedroom. He didn’t pause in his step this time.

“What is it?” Lorena asked when she saw the thoughtful look on his face as she turned down the bed, herself already ready to crawl in.

“I…” he paused, taking a deep breath and keeping watch for any anxiety that might want to peek through. “I thought maybe I could start moving my stuff into your—our room?”

Lorena gave him such a smile of relief. “I think that’s a great idea.”

It could wait until tomorrow, so they climbed into bed. He wrapped his arms around her, spooning her against him. The urge to protect was still there, the anxiety poking at him, but those demons were a lot quieter as of late.

He loved the feeling of her against him. She always seemed to fit perfectly. 

“Goodnight,” she said very softly.

“Goodnight,” he replied back. 

There was no doubt in his mind that if he were to initiate it, she would happily let him drown in her. And he was tempted, very tempted, but drown was the operative word. He just wasn’t ready to wade into all those emotions on that deep end. He’d not be able to handle the cresting waves. He was sure he’d break down and he wasn’t going to do that to her.

“Garcia.”

“Yes, _srećo_?” Oh, when was the last time he called her that? Too long.

“I… have a question,” she said after a moment, her voice unsure. “I don’t want you to read anything into it. And I know you’d answer truthfully anyway, but, before I ask, I just want you to know that… I was dead for a very long time, and you couldn’t be sure you’d save me, so… I won’t blame you, or think less of you, if you were… were with someone else, for comfort.”

She didn’t say for love because she knew he loved her, but would he have volunteered to tell her if he sought physical comfort in all those years? Would he have tried to spare her feelings unless she asked, which she was doing now? He liked to think he knew the answer, but the truth was, he’d never know, because, “There’s been no one since you.”

There was a slight and awkward release of tension in her body, as if she was afraid to show him just how relieved she felt. “I wouldn’t have blamed you, you must have been so lonely,” her voice broke a bit.

“I was,” the words were barely audible to his own ears, yet they echoed in the darkness. “But please, do not think me noble. I… I had so much self-loathing… It got better, in those last years, but the truth is, even now, I fight every day to believe that I’m allowed to simply lay here and be with you.” He fought himself not to let go of her at his confession. “So it’s not to say I would have, I just don’t know what I would have done under other circumstances.”

“I’d… I’d want you to move on and be happy,” she managed to say. 

“I know,” he replied, holding her a little closer.

“And you’re more than allowed to be here, with me,” she added after a moment. “In fact, I want and need you here. I know it doesn’t compare to what you went through, but I’ve missed being held by you these last few months.”

“Someone once told me that grief isn’t a contest,” he echoed words she had said to him over the years.

She chuckled lightly, knowing she walked into that one. 

“I wish I could give you more,” he said, suddenly more acutely aware of her body against his.

“When you’re ready.” She took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Now, let’s get some sleep.”

They snuggled closer, his arm around her to hold her, not to protect her. It was a subtle difference that spoke volumes. If he was going to be with Lorena, he had to stop being afraid to be with her.

Within half an hour, he was asleep, and it was possibly the best sleep he’d had since he decided to stay…


	2. Part II

**Stay**

**Part Two**

Flynn had to be honest, waking up to Lorena next to him just felt right, cold feet and all. She was a comforting presence, even if she drifted away from him as they slept. He’d gotten over the need to hold her all night, knowing that she was safe.

Lorena stirred from her sleep, rolling over to look at him with half-lidded eyes. “Morning.”

“Morning,” he replied back softly. She looked absolutely relaxed, and happy, to be there, with him. “We’re doing okay, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are.” She moved to kiss him and he drew her in closer.

She slipped one leg between his, their bodies flush against each other. Flynn had to slow down and breathe. Feeling Lorena like this was like standing in the heat of the sun. It was glorious and dangerous at the same time. Too much and he’d burn to ash.

Sensing his warring psyche, she tucked her head against him and made no further moves. He relaxed and simply held her until the alarm clock went off.

…

“I suppose it’s a good thing that you can function without me,” Flynn said as he sat in his work office.

“I did have to take a part-timer on full-time, but otherwise…” Stiv trailed off. When Flynn ‘left’ back in 2014, it had only been him, Stiv, and two others, one of which was an office worker. 

In the last six years their firm had moved into a new space. It had taken on more ex-analysts and former-agents who spent their time doing outsourced work for various branches of government, as well as for some of the top companies in the world. 

“I, ah, I’ve gone through all the reports and jobs we’ve done,” Flynn said. “It’s not the same as having lived through it, but I’m pretty confident I can get back to work in November.”

“Are you sure?” Stiv asked, then held up his hand to keep him from answering. “I know you’re trying not to live as rich as you are, to avoid people asking where the money came from.”

It was true. He couldn’t really explain where suddenly millions of dollars came from as his part of the ‘company’ that bought into Mason Industries to keep him afloat, that way ensuring Rufus was hired and he would meet Jiya, among other things. So the money was sitting in an account that they were going to avoid touching except for emergencies and Iris’ higher education. 

Well, they might have dipped a little bit into the funds when buying the new house. Going ahead and having some new appliances put in, some repainting done, etc. But again, not so much to make people question where the money was coming from.

“You’re good at this job,” Stiv continued, “but you don’t need the job. And right now, we don’t need you. Not on a daily basis. So if you want to take a longer, extended leave, do it. You’re the boss. Spend time with the family you fought so hard to save.”

The offer was tempting. He certainly didn’t want to take any long trips in the foreseeable future. Before 2014, the occasional week-long jaunt across the world was just normal. Now he wasn’t even sure he could take two days away from them.

“I don’t want you to have to do all the work,” Flynn said after a moment reflection. “While I sit back and collect a paycheck.”

“Again, you’re the boss.” Stiv was not impressed with Flynn’s reasoning. “You’re the owner. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. And if we need you, we’ll call you. So why don’t you at least take off through to next year. These first holidays are going to be hard enough to get through… you don’t need to add more stress on top of that.”

…

“Fire and CO2 detectors?”

“We put in new batteries last week.” Preeta’s mom was giving him a humoring look. 

“Sorry.” Flynn looked sufficiently apologetic. “I work in security, so…”

“I understand,” she said in a way that made him wonder if Lorena had spoken to her, perhaps warned her of his slightly overprotective streak. “We’ve had the same party for the past three years, for Preeta and her older sister. Iris will have fun, and she’ll be fine.”

Iris was in the living room with her friends, showing off their costumes for the night. She was smiling and enjoying herself. She looked back at him and smiled even broader, as if letting him know she was okay, it was okay, he could leave.

“Call us if you need anything,” he told the woman who politely smiled at him as he walked back out the door.

Another parent and child were showing up, so he got out of their way and went to his car. As he sat behind the wheel, he thought he’d feel more anxious or even terrified. At least when him and Lorena went out, Iris was in their house, an environment he knew was safe. The same with Susan’s as she had spent many sleepovers there in the past five years. So letting her stay at a place that was new and an unknown? Well, there was a slight tick of anxiety but perhaps a normal amount for a parent in his position.

Normal. How amazing was it to use that word again?

He drove back home, never once feeling the urge to turn around and go back. Instead, he looked forward. Him and Lorena would pass out candy and then get the whole house to themselves afterwards. 

Of course, there were no guarantees as to what they would be doing with that time. 

Sex was the Rubicon. They had passed through all other points in their relationship: Getting reacquainted. Learning all the new things about each other. Finding that the spark between them was still there. Falling in love, well, not completely all over again, because they never stopped.

When they were first dating, they started sleeping together after only a few dates. But then they were younger, and in the military where time wasn’t a given. It also didn’t mean as much then as it did now. Then, it was about exploration and having fun and falling in love.

Now, it was a promise. It was about them finally getting back to where they were before. Which also meant no more safety net. It was him saying he wasn’t going to walk away, he was staying for the long haul.

Flynn got home, trying not to think about his possible evening plans too much. He hadn’t said anything about them to Lorena either, so she wasn’t expecting anything. Though she might have her suspicions. She wasn’t blind to the situation, simply letting him take the lead. So tonight, his main plan was to simply start small and see where it went from there.

Bags of candy were sitting on the kitchen island, probably more than they were going to need. But Lorena had already separated out all the mini Kit-Kats which were her favorites. The trick-or-treaters would never see them.

He smiled at that, then called out, “Lorena. I’m home.” Why does the terribly cliché often feel so comfortable?

“I’m upstairs,” she replied. “Putting on my costume.”

It was time he started thinking about getting dressed himself. He had a nice doubt-breasted Regency suit that was… severally vintage. He only had to patch one section of stab damage and it was good to go as his Mr. Darcy costume.

He’d hung it on the closet door that morning, so his first instinct was to go up and fetch it. The door to the bedroom was open so he walked right in without thinking. Lorena let out a little squeak of surprise, which only drew his attention directly to her.

She was standing in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door. Clad in nothing but her underwear and a strapless bra, she froze, looking at him looking at her through the reflection. Her hands were on her breasts, clearly having been getting them to sit properly in the bra.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he stuttered, rooted to the floor.

Lorena shrugged it off, but her skin was starting to flush. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

This was true. Back, before, them getting dressed in front of each other was so common that walking in like this would find him not missing a beat, grabbing his suit. And if it was anyone other than Lorena that he accidently walked in on, he would have back-peddled the instance he realized it.

Now, he was stuck, unable to continue and unable to flee.

It didn’t help that Lorena made no move to cover herself, as one might do if another’s gaze was unwelcomed. She simply continued adjusting the bra as if this was any other day. 

Flynn found his footing and walked over to grab his suit from the opposite closet door. He laid it on the bed and started to strip off his jeans and turtleneck, knowing she could see him in the mirror if she so chose too. He put on the suit, piece-by-piece, with there being far too many pieces. And people wondered how come this all went out of style?

They both finished getting dressed, Lorena sliding on a Regency dress with a boxed neckline and nearly off the shoulder sleeves. She was finishing up her hair and makeup as he pulled on his dress shoes, sitting on the bed to do so. 

“Do you dance, Mr. Darcy?” Lorena said she stood before him, her costume complete.

He smiled up at her. “Not if I can help it.”

She chuckled and smiled back. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to.”

“Very wise,” he said as he stood, offering her his arm. “Shall I lead you to the candy, Ms. Bennet?”

“That would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe you for all eternity,” she replied, taking his arm and trying to keep a straight face. She couldn’t stop a slight uptick at the corners of her lips.

“Did you not know I own half the Kit-Kats in Derbyshire?” he countered as he led her out of the bedroom.

“The melted half?” 

They went on like that for the rest of the evening. Lorena deciding to put on the _Pride and Prejudice_ mini-series to watch between trick-or-treaters.

It was a new neighborhood, and they were unsure how busy it would be. A steady stream of kids came by just before and after dark. Iris checked in with a photo of her candy-haul, which they suspected was only half of it. The rest hidden so they couldn’t tell her not to eat so much. The girl was getting far too crafty and they only had themselves to blame.

The evening wore on and they were low on candy, except the Kit-Kats which Lorena would only give up in an emergency. Thankfully it didn’t look like that would happen as the streets got quiet and many neighbors were starting to turn off their lights. They decided they too would call it a night, turning off the front light and closing the curtains.

“That was fun,” Lorena said, putting away the leftover candy into a container. It felt so normal to be celebrating Halloween, not foreign as it might have months ago. But now the night was over and it was also just beginning.

Start small, he told himself. Start small. “How about we have a late dinner, then snuggle up in front of the tv and finish the mini-series?”

“Read my mind.” Lorena smiled, looking down at her dress. “I wonder if I should change first.”

“You look pretty,” he said without missing a beat. 

Lorena paused for a moment, lightly pulling at the cloth. Quietly she said, “Do I really?”

“Yes,” he said, confused by the sudden changed in her demeanor. But when that answer didn’t seem to satisfy her, he gracefully said, “Why would you ask that?”

As he blanched at his lack of tact, Lorena seemed to take no notice. She simply looked up at him and said, “You… you haven’t seen me in over six years. I didn’t really think about it until earlier, but I must be thicker and… saggier, than you remember.”

“You have changed from what I remember,” he put his foot in his mouth again and then tried to remove it. “But I’ve changed too, from what you remember.”

“You’ve only gotten hotter with age,” she admitted bluntly. “Did you see how most of the mom’s, and a few of the dad’s, were looking at you?”

“It, ah, didn’t go unnoticed.” It wasn’t like it didn’t happen the entire time they dated and were married, but it never bothered Lorena before because she knew that he only had eyes for her. 

She shook her head and tried to go back to putting things up. “Forget about it.”

Was she worried he was disappointed in some way? That he went through everything, stealing a time machine, only to get back something he considered subpar? That she didn’t live up to his expectations? Was this the one crack in her resolve? Placed there by the barrage of media and ads that told her she’d never be beautiful enough?

Would she still feel like this if he hadn’t missed six years of their life together?

Without even realizing what he was doing, he stood and walked around the kitchen isle. She tracked him with her eyes and made no move as he came to stand behind her. His fingers danced lightly down her shoulders, going to the tie at the back of her dress that cinched the waist in. He pulled at it and the dress loosened around her.

“You are beautiful,” he spoke into her ear as he pushed the dress completely from her shoulders so that he could tug it down. “You always have been, always will be.”

Lorena gave a sharp intake of breath, her body trembling against him as the dress now lay on the kitchen tile at their feet. He made light touches as he brought his hands up her front so that he could grab her breasts trapped in the firm cup of the bra.

That needed to go, so he pulled back just enough to reach the latch and undo the hooks. It released, leaving marks on her skin which he traced around to her front, this time properly squeezing and fondling her. She sighed, tipping her head back against him, as well as firmly rubbing her body into his. 

His brain told him that maybe he should slow down. He’d only been trying to make the point that he still found her beautiful, and desirable. But his body was on fire as he started to roll his hips into her, his fingers pinching her nipples. He was once again rolling down that cliff and couldn’t stop himself. And by the noises Lorena was making, she didn’t want him to.

She braced her hands on the kitchen island as his ministrations grew firmer. There was no way she couldn’t feel how turned on he was, his member getting solid in the woefully tight pants as he rubbed against her. But he was a gentleman first, and he snaked one hand down, sliding into her panties to find nothing but wetness. 

“Forgive me, I’m a little rusty at this,” he murmured as he slipped his fingers between her folds. Her answer was a gasp of breath and her head falling forward.

His thumb searching for her sweet spot, little grunts of pleasure escaping the back of her throat. He chased the sounds, making them louder, slipping one finger inside. She bucked against him, so he ground into her.

Tilting her head back with his free hand, he kissed down her neck. The sounds coming out of her were intelligible as he slid in one more finger, thrusting in and out as his thumb retraced the looping pattern that drove her pleasure. She was so close to coming apart, he did that to her.

“I want to hear you come,” he said as he doubled his efforts, his free hand fondling her breasts again as he nuzzled against her.

Her pitch changed and he knew she was so close. He remembered what all the little noises she made meant; how her body reacted to the pleasure he was giving her. Dreams and memories finally playing out before him once again.

“Come for me, _srećo_ ,” he said lowly into her ear and she snapped. 

She wailed in pleasure, her body curling as she came around his fingers, clenching them. He held on to her, soothing her down from the high. She mumbled a few curse words which was always a good sign of a nice strong orgasm. A sense of pride and pleasure poured over him. 

All he ever wanted, in all those years, was to see Lorena alive and happy again. And while she had been happy in his return, something about hearing her guttural moans of pleasure doused his primitive brain in sweet satisfaction. She was orgasmicly happy, and he did that to her, him.

He could have picked her up, taken her upstairs to a proper bed. Hell, the sofa was closer in the living room. But he was still rolling down that hill. His body working semi-independent from his brain as he supported Lorena with one hand and undid his trousers with his other. He couldn’t even tell you how he did it, the steps he took with the Regency clothing to release his throbbing cock.

Lorena, still braced against the island countertop, alternated hands to pull down her panties. She wanted him and was ready, willing. That feeling rumbled deep in his body and his psyche. 

When he slid inside her, he was glad she was facing away, so she couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. On a base level, there was the sheer physical release of finding this kind of pleasure again. The sensation of being buried inside someone, especially someone he loved, after so long… it felt so good it threatened to short circuit every nerve ending in his body. 

“I love you,” he mumbled over and over as he started to move, trying to find the rhythm they once had, hoping it wasn’t lost.

Lorena planted her feet, he gripped her hips, and together they rolled and crashed into each other. How many dreams, how many long showers with his hand around his cock, had he experienced, wishing of this very moment? To once again bury himself in the woman he loved. To drive each other to the very edges of pleasure, falling into the abyss beyond

It didn’t take long for him to find those cliffs. In fact, it was ridiculously easy and he struggled not to throw himself off so quickly. “Lorena…” he warned her he wasn’t going to hold out much longer.

She slipped one hand down between her legs to hasten her second orgasm. Soon she was clenching around him as she made delicious moaning sounds. Feeling her around him set his body aflame and he couldn’t have stopped himself from coming if he tried.

Flynn buried himself deep and let himself fall, spilling inside her.

He let go of her hips to reach forward and grip the counter, his hands next to hers. He laid his head against her back, between her shoulder blades, and tried to compose himself. Tears were still streaming down his cheeks. 

Five months ago… six years ago… it didn’t matter. He never thought he would be with Lorena after everything he had done, everything he had become. But she refused to believe the lies his brain tried to tell him. And after the uncertainty and the fear… here they were… 

They passed the Rubicon…

But that only meant there was no turning back now. Their pasts finally settled; they had a whole future to face down… together.

Lorena chuckled softly. “You, ah, only had to _tell_ me I was beautiful.”

“I’m a hands-on kind of guy.” Flynn laughed, kissing between her shoulder blades before standing upright.

He brought Lorena up with him, turning her around so he could look at her. If she noticed the streaks left by his tears, she didn’t say anything. As for her, she looked absolutely wrecked, in the best way. Again, there was that little touch of pride in him that he did this to her. He cradled her neck and kissed her, long and deep. It was a hungry kiss which caused them to back into the counter. 

“Mmmm,” Lorena hummed against his lips. “Either you’re overdressed, or I’m underdressed.”

“It would seem so.” He ran his hand down her spin and she shivered. Though it may have been from the cold seeing that they were in the kitchen, surrounded by so much tile and stone. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Her hands were wandering all over him, relishing touching him.

“I… I meant for this to be more… romantic,” he tried to find the right words. “A bit less…”

“Animalist rutting?” 

Flynn blanched, but mostly because she was right.

“It’s okay.” Lorena gave him soft kisses. “You clearly needed that, and I’m pretty sure the neighbors heard just how much I wasn’t complaining.”

He blushed and a deep chuckle rumbled through him. It felt like they were young again, two soldiers making out in the motor pool storage room because the barracks were too far away, and because they could. But they were getting old, and he was woefully out of practice. If she was worried she didn’t live up to his expectations, he was worried he wouldn’t live up to hers.

Running his hands down her skin, the goosebumps were definitely not from him. He shrugged his jacket off, placing it around her shoulders so she wouldn’t be cold. “I had all these ideas of worshiping you like a goddess to make up for… everything.”

“Well, for one, you don’t owe me anything.” Lorena pulled him close. “Not ever. I love you, and we’re a partnership.”

“I love you.” He softly kissed her.

She hummed against his lips. “And about the worshipping as a goddess part, we do have the rest of the evening just to ourselves.”

“So we do…”

…

If you had asked Lorena a year ago, she would have said that her and her husband had a slightly above average sex life… at the time. It had definitely dipped to below average after Iris was born, and at that point it was more about quality than quantity. But once Iris got older, and they therefore had less interruptions, less sleep deprivation, etc… they started having sex more often again.

Of course, Lorena had to average it out since Garcia could be gone for weeks at a time. When he returned, he more than made up for his absence. Not that she ever required it of him, but she also wasn’t going to stop him either. But those absences were measured in weeks. 

Six years was a long absence. But not for her, she had enjoyed that slightly above average sex life with his other self. A man who had watched her age slowly, so the changes wouldn’t have been so stark.

Lorena wiped the condensation off the mirror after her morning shower. Her image was warped by the residue of water that hadn’t been picked up by the towel. She didn’t need a clear image to see how her body had changed in the six years, a product of getting old. Well, forty-four may not be very old, but she was a long way from her military days which had kept her extremely fit… while also breaking her body down. 

She pushed herself hard back then, and the bills were coming due, one by one. 

Her eyes drifted to the small bruises lightly dotting her hips, evidence of Garcia’s enthusiasm. Not that she minded, it wouldn’t be the first time they’d gotten a little rough. All things in moderation and all that. And he’d gone without for so long, it was hardly surprising he went after her like a hungry man at a buffet. 

Hungry men will eat anything though, right?

Horrendous and debasing thoughts ran through her head. She covered her eyes with her hand and tried not to cry. She had never been this self-conscious before. One would think having one’s husband steal a time machine and destroy a cult just to get them back would have the opposite effect. But it only made it worse.

The more difficult something is, the greater the reward, right? Not that she thought of herself as a reward, nor did she think Garcia did either. But it didn’t stop her brain from whispering that she wasn’t good enough. She wasn’t worth reweaving the very fabric of time for. 

There was a light knock on the bathroom door, then it opened. Garcia leaned against the frame in nothing but his boxers. He looked so damn good, which was nothing new. Her feelings of inadequacy and not deserving him… those were new.

“You’ve been in here a long time,” he said quietly.

“I…” whatever lie she was going to say fell silent on her lips. No, she needed to be honest with him otherwise everything they were working for would fall apart. “I’m facing some irrational fears.”

“What kind of fears?” he asked thoughtfully, licking his lips.

“That I’m not good enough for you anymore,” she sighed and put her hands on the counter, hanging her head. “That everything you went through, you deserve more than…”

“Than what?” He stood from the frame and walked over to her. He ran his hand along her spine and it warmed her. “Is this where I remind you that you wouldn’t let me think I wasn’t good enough for you anymore?”

Lorena hung her head even lower. “What a pair we make.”

“But it’s a pair,” he said, gently tipping up her chin so he could look at her with such an honest an earnest expression. “I love you Lorena. I love who you were. I love who you are. I love who you will be.”

Her eyes fluttered shut to try to keep tears from falling. He pulled her into him and soothed her with his strong hands and soft Croatian words. 

“I’m sorry, Lorena,” he finally said in English, “but it seems like you’re stuck with me.”

That made her laugh, her body rippling against his. “I’m not stuck with you, you’re stuck with me.”

His own chuckle barreled through his chest as they held each other. The scope of his words weren’t lost on her. He wasn’t thinking about walking away anymore. He finally got it through his thick skull that they wanted him to stay here, with them, no matter how broken he thought he was.

They were a family. They were ‘Team Flynn.’ And they were going to get through this, together.

…

Every night after Halloween was filled with Garcia relearning another part of her body. And she let him do it on his terms, not hers, because she’d say it a million times if she had to: he didn’t owe her anything.

There was also learning to do on her part as well. New scars littered his body, evidence of his battles to save his family. Some he told her the story of, others he distracted her with kisses and touches. Lorena didn’t mind, he would talk about them when he was ready.

Like everything else these past few months… it would happen when it was ready to happen.

A couple weeks in, Lorena found herself in the wonderful position of laying flat on her back with Garcia’s face between her legs. Tonight’s plan seemed to be to tease her endlessly with his tongue before letting his fingers get in on the action. It was frustrating, in the best way possible.

He sharpened his tongue against her clit and she gripped the sheets tight, swallowing a loud moan. She could feel the smug look on his face.

A phone started to ring, Lorena realizing it was Garcia’s. It was sitting on the nightstand on his side of the bed. She cursed as she reached over to grab it, looking at the caller ID. There would only be two reasons for someone to call so late at night. Either something had gone seriously wrong at work, or…

“It’s your brother,” she said as she looked to Garcia who had sat up. She handed him the phone with a sigh, mood sufficiently killed. “He’ll just keep calling, he knows you’re usually still awake this time.”

“To be continued,” he said as he wiped his face with a towel they had brought with them to the bed for such conveniences. Then he answered the phone, putting it on speaker. “Yes, brat?”

“Am I interrupting something?” Gabe asked, hearing the heavy annoyance in his brother’s voice in only the two words.

“Nothing that can’t be finished later,” he replied wryly.

“Hhhmmmm, oh! Hah! I am totally cockblocking you right now.” Gabe was laughing and Lorena rued the day he learned that term, from her, it was an accident. “And my payback for you cockblocking me and Ana continues.”

Garcia glanced up at Lorena. It was one of the stories she hadn’t told him yet because there were so many. She mouthed the words, “You were six.”

“I was a kid!” Garcia defended himself. “As if I knew what was happening?”

“Oh, sure, _that_ you remember,” he said sarcastically, though with a strong touch of mirth there. “I may still never forgive you. But please give Lorena my sincerest apologizes for interrupting.”

“Did you have a reason for calling…?” Garcia grumbled, but there was a laugh in there trying to get out. She smiled at him as she pulled the blanket over her to keep from getting cold.

“Oh, yes, so, we had a discussion, and everyone is coming over for Christmas,” he said with finality.

“Everyone?” Garcia felt the need to clarify.

“Everyone,” Gabriel repeated gravely. “Me, mom, Delphine, William, Marcus, Roselyn, and even Amaranthe. So, the question is, do we need to get a hotel?”

“Ah, let me check with Lorena,” Garcia said and looked up at her.

Lorena thought it over for a moment. “Gabe and Delphine can have the guest bedroom. Your mom can sleep in Iris’ room. We’ll move her and Amaranthe into the living room, they’ll want to stake out the tree anyway. Marcus and Roselyn can sleep in my office with an air mattress. And Will can sleep on the sofa in your office, or an air mattress as well.”

“What about your family?” Garcia asked her.

“I already told them that we’d probably do Christmas with your family year, because of… everything,” she knew Gabriel was listening. “Was thinking we’d go to theirs at Thanksgiving. The holiday is questionable but if everyone is going to get the day off anyway, might as well make use of it.”

Garcia nodded at her, not questioning her assessment. If she said it was an acceptable compromise, then he had no reason to question her. He instead turned his attention back to his brother. “Did you get all that?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gabriel answered. “I’ll check with everyone about the room assignments and let you know. So, until then, I’ll, ah, just let you two get back to it.” 

Gabe didn’t give him a chance to have a snappy comeback, disconnecting quickly. Garcia grumbled, muttering some words in Croatian under his breath as he moved to return his phone to the charger. He flopped onto his back and ran his hand over his face. “I have not physically met the man, but he is so physically taxing.”

Lorena chuckled and crawled in beside him. “Welcome to siblinghood.”

He groaned, the annoying kind, letting out an exasperated breath. But it was soon followed by reluctant chuckles. “I literally did this to myself.”

“No regrets?” she asked, knowing the answer.

“No regrets,” he confirmed, then looked over at her. He reached across and tugged at the blanket covering her. “Maybe a little regret.”

She laughed as he rolled into her and they tumbled across the bed.

…

“Sorry, we’re late,” Flynn said as him and Lorena were greeted by Amy.

“Eh, time is literally relative and irrelevant at this point.” Amy smiled and accepted their offering of some imported beer and a tub full of _fritule_ , which was like a donut and beignet had a beautiful Croatian baby together. “Everyone’s in the living room.”

They made their way towards the sound of the party. It was a small affair, just those who knew about time travel. It was the weekend before Thanksgiving, Lucy wanting to get everyone together to celebrate. Not the holiday, just a general thankfulness that they stopped Rittenhouse, together. And that certain someone’s were alive or back to existing.

“There you are,” Lucy said as she gave Flynn a hug in greeting. 

“Apologies for being late,” he said as he hugged her back.

“Our babysitter got stuck behind a train,” Lorena explained.

Lucy laughed and gave Lorena a hug as well. “And here I thought Flynn just wanted a dramatic entrance.” 

“I told him no.” Lorena smirked at him.

Flynn narrowed his eyes at her, but it was all in good jest. Idly he wondered when the pranking would start again. Lorena had reigned in that part of herself over the past months because you really don’t want to prank someone who is recovering from severe PTSD. 

But he did get to watch her trick Wyatt into eating an entire ghost pepper at Rufus’ party last month. The look on the man’s face had been priceless and they all laughed so hard their ribs hurt.

Of course, Lorena wouldn’t do something like that to Flynn. She was more likely to hide the coffee and make him solve a riddle to find it. Her tricks on him were usually designed to make his skills sharper. She would say that a relationship isn’t just about complimenting each other, but making each other the best version of themselves. 

Everyone else was fair game.

“She did what?” Lucy laughed. 

“Iris stood up from her desk,” Flynn expanded on the story, he was standing next to the bookcase with Lucy and Rufus, “and she flat out refused to do the lesson because, and I quote, ‘it promoted a false narrative to cover up the fact that colonization was genocide.’”

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Lucy said matter-of-fact.

“That’s what I told the principle,” Flynn added, waving his hands in a duh gesture. “He was not impressed.”

“Dude, didn’t you move for this school?” Rufus asked, taking a swig of his beer.

“For the high school, this is the middle school.” Flynn sighed. “Though they do have their own top rate STEM programs, it’s just their history teacher leaves much to be desired.”

“Humanities are always the first things to go.” Lucy’s sigh matched his.

“Yeah.” It was very unfortunate, but they still had to deal with it. “The principle wanted to suspend her for being disruptive, but I, ah, may have intimidated him into just giving her a warning.”

“Is he still alive?” Rufus asked blankly.

“Yes.”

“Does he have any broken bones?”

“No.”

“Pics or it didn’t not happen,” Rufus said and took another swig of beer.

“What does that even mean?”

Flynn didn’t get an answer because Jiya called him over to see something she and Jessica were watching on her phone. 

“Hey,” Lucy said quietly after Rufus left earshot. “I’ve been meaning to comment, you and Lorena seem very comfortable with each other again. Like an old married couple, and it suits you. Suits you both.”

“We’re, uh, still a work in progress,” he admitted, and it didn’t feel like a heavy confession at all. “But we’ve caught back up to each other. Now we can push forward together.”

Lucy smiled. “Is this where I get to be smug and tell you I told you so?”

“Yes, yes, it was the right thing to move in and stay close to the both of them,” he admitted. “Yes, it was possible to rebuild what I lost.”

“We may have to debate the meaning of ‘lost,’” Lucy said thoughtfully. “One might argue you never lost them, just travelled on separate paths for a while.”

“Maybe so.” It was a philosophical discussion for another time. Right now he was dealing with another reality which was caving in on him. “Mama and Gabriel, and Gabriel’s wife and kids, and grandkid, are all coming here for Christmas.”

“I see,” she said, thinking that over for a second. “Are you prepared for this? It will be a lot to take in at once.”

“It’s a lot to take in now.” He had to be honest with himself. A whole family of people who knew him as only family could… and he didn’t know them. Hell, he created half of them by saving Gabe to be a husband who had two boys. One of them already had their own kid. The Gabriel Thompkins branch of the family tree was likely going to just keep on growing.

He couldn’t let any of them find out what he did. It would be too cruel for them to have to explore what that meant. 

“You’ll be okay,” Lucy assured him. “You’ve already survived one of the worst things a person could go through.”

“By stealing a time machine,” Flynn reminded her. “And I kidnapped you at least twice.”

“All true.” Lucy nodded. “But this time you have Lorena. And you have all of us. You’re not alone anymore Garcia Flynn. I’ll keep telling you that for as long as it takes.”

…

It’s much easier to get to Indiana than it is to France. More flights, shorter flight, and no need for passport checks or currency conversion. So they flew up to Lorena’s parent’s house the day before Thanksgiving and returned that following Sunday.

It had been an uneventful trip, as far as Flynn was concerned. Almost nothing had been changed on her side as Gabriel being alive had no effect on Lorena’s family. Flynn once again filled in the six year gap with social media and Lorena’s studious notes. But overall, it wasn’t even close to what it was going to be like to meet his mama who had died and his half-brother who he had never met.

If anything, this was a nice test-run of how he was going to pretend he didn’t live on a separate timeline for so long. How to cover up his feelings upon remembering their faces as they stood over Lorena and Iris’ grave. The family had been thoughtful, accepting his awkwardness and memory loss in stride. They were patient, a trait Lorena had obviously inherited. 

“You know what, Lorena,” he said the first night they were back in California, snuggled up in bed.

“Yeah, hun?”

“It’s… extremely comforting to know that nothing changed with you and your family,” he confessed. “That I didn’t screw up their lives accidently.”

Lorena got quiet for a moment, then said, “I didn’t think about it, god there are so many things I hadn’t considered when I really should have, but, how did they take it? Iris’ death, and mine?”

It was a heavy question and it he made sure to gather his thoughts first. “They were so _angry_. They… didn’t believe the reports that I… was the killer. They even made sure to put ‘wife’ and ‘daughter’ on your tombstone in defiance. They bothered the police so much I was worried they would bring Rittenhouse down on them.”

“Of all the sins, my family has always had an issue with avoiding wrath,” Lorena managed a chuckle at such a dark subject. “I… I admit I’ve thought about what I’d do if I had been in your position.”

He’d be lying if he hadn’t considered it as well. “Dare I ask?”

“I would _burn_ … _everything_ …”

Flynn pulled her close and kissed her temple. “Of this I have no doubt.”

For the longest time, he thought that his family wouldn’t be able to forgive him of all the things he had to do to stop Rittenhouse. It was a folly of a thought, because they would have been right there with him if they could. 

Doing whatever it took to right such a terrible wrong.

…

There are always dates that hold significant meaning to individuals. Days when something happened to change their lives, for better or worse. Some of these dates are commemorated. Others are made to not exist, despite physics taking umbrage with this.

The day Lorena and Iris Flynn died, three weeks before Christmas, was a date that was literally erased. December 10th, 2014 still happened, but uneventfully so. The calendar date had repeated itself several times and would do so again. But the Day Lorena and Iris died… has been disappeared from history.

Garcia Flynn remembers that day.

Every sharp sound, every sanguine smell, and every visceral vision. 

December 10th repeats every year, but what kind of day would it be _this_ year?

Flynn had a nervous tick all through the day, not even noticing it until Lorena pointed it out. There was no helping the nervous energy so they worked around it, opting for a low-impact day where they went to bed early. Iris was brought into their bedroom to sleep between them, curled up in her blanket with the horses on it, clutching her stuffed koala. 

December 10th did not repeat this year.

…

There are always dates that hold significant meaning to individuals. All other dates simply exist to fill in gaps and create annoying waits.

These are the dates you actually need to watch out for, as they haven’t become important… yet.

Lorena woke up with a burning sensation in her throat. She was getting to the point where she had to accept she was too white, and getting too old, to eat super spicey foods. They were so delicious, but they clearly had it in for her, betraying her at every turn lately. _Et tu, Baharat?_

She dragged herself out of bed and headed into the bathroom. Hopefully the antacids would kick in quickly and she could get some rest. She doubted Garcia would sleep well tomorrow as it would be the night before physically meeting his half-brother for the first time. Sort of. He met him as a small child, but it was unclear if that really counted. 

Regardless, it was going to be an emotionally heavy day and the months of prep might not be enough.

Lorena poured herself a glass of water as she chewed on the antiacid. It tasted awful despite the promise of a great cherry flavor. She was downing the water when she went to place the bottle back on the cabinet shelf. In her semi-awake state, she didn’t quite get it on there, the bottle tumbling down onto the counter.

Cursing under her breath, she immediately grabbed it before it bounced onto the floor.

“LORENA!”

Startled by her husband bellowing out her name, she quickly stuck her head out the bathroom door. He was sitting up in bed, one leg hanging off as if he was about to stand. His hand was in the open drawer of the nightstand, where they used to keep a lockbox with a handgun, a practice they stopped three years ago.

His eyes were glazed over in panic. 

Lorena wasn’t sure what to do, afraid to move, afraid not to. 

She wasn’t afraid of Garcia, she was afraid for him. It didn’t take much for her to figure out he heard the pop-pop of the heavy plastic bottle hitting the counter and woke up to an empty bed. All of his anxiety must have burst like a cottonwood hit with a strong breeze.

“Blanket, chair, lamp, clock,” he started to mutter out things he could see as he fell back, taking deep breaths between words. 

Lorena sat the bottle on the counter and then slowly made her way to her side of the bed. She laid down beside him, though with a respectable distance between them. She stared up at the ceiling, asking god for a little support right now. The only answer was Garcia finding her hand and holding on as they laid there.

“Speedbumps we didn’t know were there,” she said after a few minutes.

He gave her hand a squeeze, his breathing starting to resemble something normal. Tugging her, she let him draw her in so he could wrap his arms around her and spoon her. 

They were always going to hit speedbumps, but they couldn’t stay on them, they needed to keep moving forward.

…

“They’re here, they’re here!” Iris said, bouncing away from the window.

Flynn’s heart crawled up into his throat and lodged itself solidly in his windpipe. 

“You can do this,” Lorena said as she rubbed his back. “Any memory gaps we can blame on the brain clot.”

“What… what if they don’t like me?” he managed to say. 

“Gabe’s your brother, of course he doesn’t like you, he only tolerates you,” she said with grin to which he had no response. 

Lorena took his hand and led him to the front door left open by Iris charging out to greet the family she rarely got to see all gathered together.

A family he had never met, that he created, and who he had spent months studying. Memorizing details and dates so at least he had something to grasp onto instead of being set adrift. He had infiltrated enemy groups with less information, but this was his _family_.

There were seven of them, and they were going to visit for over a week, so they’d opted to rent two cars at the airport instead of Flynn going and picking them up. Flynn was thankful for this because he wasn’t entirely sure how he would manage controlling the vehicle with his half-brother and mother in there with him.

His mother, whose funeral he sat through, buried in Texas next to Gabriel.

No, he couldn’t think about that.

As Flynn walked outside, the first person he saw was Delphine. While Ana may have been Gabriel’s first love, when he moved to France he met Delphine, who was French Algerian. He fell in love and all thoughts of Ana were gone, except when needed to troll his half-brother. 

Standing with Delphine was her daughter-in-law, Roselyn. She was in contrast to her dark-haired mother-in-law as a strawberry blonde. A trait that was picked up by her daughter, Amaranthe, who was talking to Iris. Amaranthe was only two years older than her cousin.

How strange was it that Flynn was closer in age to his half-brother’s eldest son than he was to him? But Marcus was only ten years younger than Flynn, while Gabriel was twelve years older. Marcus and Roselyn had their daughter in 2007, effectively making Maria a great-grandmother before Iris came along. Flynn had met Lorena by 2007, of course, but with them both being in the military, they knew they needed to wait until they left service and were settled civilians before having children.

Flynn had no regrets in his original timeline, waiting as he did. And according to Lorena, he had none in this one either. 

He could hear his mother’s voice, directing the movement of grabbing the bags from the trunks. The lids were up, blocking his view, but he knew she was there. His breathing picked up, got shallow, as he was assaulted by nerves. He barely registered Delphine and Roselyn greeting them, their accents distinctly French.

His mama came around one of the cars and looked straight at him. The video calls didn’t do her justice. She may be in her seventies, but she looked spry and healthy, so much unlike what he remembered in his timeline of a woman who was broken down by grief. Even from that distance, he could see that the pain which had haunted her was gone from her eyes. 

In a way, he almost didn’t recognize his own mother.

“ _Piliću_ ,” she called out as she made her way towards him with purpose. The word meant ‘little chicken’ and was a term of endearment, given to Flynn after an incident at his Croatian grandmother’s house when he was but eight. 

To hear her say it again, even if she still couldn’t quite get the word right through her Texan twang, nearly brought him to his knees.

“Mama,” Garcia breathed quietly, wrapping up his mother in a hug so tight it threatened to break her, but she was giving as good as she got. 

“Oh, my little boy,” she said, rubbing her hands down his back as one would sooth a child. 

He squeezed his eyes tight, trying not to cry. 

She pulled out of the hug so she could frame his face with her hands. “Look at me, Garcia.”

It took concerted effort to calm himself enough to open his eyes and look at his mother. He remembered distinctly her face when he confessed to her his motives when he saved Gabriel. She had been scared, unsure, but determined. Now she just looked determined.

“Everything is going to be okay,” she told him. “I promise.”

He nodded, a boy unable not to believe his mama when she promises everything is going to be okay. 

She smiled, pleased with his reaction. 

“Now,” she said as she let go of him, “where is my favorite granddaughter?” 

“I’m your only granddaughter!” Iris laughed as she latched onto Maria in a big hug.

“But you’re still my favorite,” Maria assured her. “Just like Amaranthe is my favorite great-granddaughter, and Marcus is my favorite grandson.” 

“Hey!” William called out as he walked up with some of the luggage. 

Maria patted him on the shoulder and everyone had a laugh, even William. It was a running joke in the family. Flynn knew this, Lorena had mentioned it, but it was still surreal to experience it.

“Hey, brat,” Gabriel appeared from nowhere, sneaking up on Flynn and enveloping him in a hug. 

Flynn was blindsided and all he could do was hug his brother back. He still remembered the look of pain on his face as he suffered the effects of the bee-sting. Now the man was all smiles, though there was a small etching of concern in his features. 

“How’s the ol’ noggin?” Gabriel ran his hand through Flynn’s hair like one would do a younger brother, even if said brother was taller.

“I think I’m developing a headache about yea tall.” Flynn held his hand up to Gabriel’s height. Lorena had said there was a friendly sibling rivalry going on regarding the height difference. Flynn was a bit surprised at how easy the joke came to him.

Gabriel let out a bark of laughter and hugged Flynn again. 

The next few minutes were a flurry. The luggage was hauled inside and taken to their perspective rooms. Presents were placed under the Christmas tree which had been left naked. They would be decorating it that night. 

Iris called both of Gabriel’s sons her uncles even though they were technically cousins. The twenty+plus age gap just seemed to lend itself to that kind of relationship. And apparently William was the ‘cool uncle’ who snuck Iris a box of Belgium chocolates when they thought no one was looking. 

Flynn saw Delphine and Lorena store an EpiPen in the drawer of the entry-hall table. They always carried one with them, but since they were going to be at the house for several days, it was good to have one where anyone could get to it, just in case. Flynn remembered the agonizing wait for Gabriel to get stung. Their mom had to know he was allergic, to protect him from future incidents.

The house was simply a bustle of activity, Flynn getting pulled left and right. No one seemed to notice he had never met them before. How he marveled at the familiarity of Marcus and William’s French accents. Like Flynn, they had an English-speaking parent but English wasn’t their first language.

His mama had requested good ol’ American hotdogs, with relish and mustard. Some with sauerkraut. She enjoyed living in France but there were some things she missed. Flynn remembered his mother asking her Lockman work colleges to bring a pack of Bar S hot dogs with them when they came over from the states. Some things never changed.

The good thing about living in California was that it wasn’t that cold in the winter. Between the fire pit and the grill, Flynn could comfortably stand outside grilling the hot dogs while his mama and wife got all the sides made. He needed the time alone because he felt like he was going to crack. There was a whole family in there who loved him, but would they still if they knew what he had done?

Gabriel walked out onto the patio as Flynn turned some of the hot dogs. The man handed him a beer. “Brat.”

How could something feel so natural and so foreign at the same time? Flynn took a drink to cover his awkwardness at his unsurety.

“You doing okay, Garcia?” Gabriel asked with a depth of concern that could only be translated person to person. “This brain clot business, losing memories. I know I’ve been joking with you, but I… I didn’t want you to pity yourself. Not when I couldn’t be here to smack some sense into you.”

“So you’d rather me want to smack you?” Flynn asked with a bit of side eye.

“As long as you’re mad at me and not yourself,” Gabriel answered seriously, taking a long swig of his beer.

Flynn didn’t know what to say to that. His brother wanted to help him, and the only way to do that was be a focal point for his annoyance and anger so that he didn’t turn it inward. Gabriel did that, on purpose, and it had worked.

It had helped.

“What would I do without you,” Flynn mused as he picked at the label on his beer. Of course, he already knew the answer, but there was a whole world stretched out in front of him to explore.

“Eh, you’d be fine,” Gabriel admitted. “You may be a Flynn, and as overly hopeful as they are, you’re also a Thompkins, and we’re survivors.”

“Yeah.” Garcia cleared his throat and went to start pulling the hot dogs off the grill before he burned them. He knew he would be poking the bear, but he couldn’t stop himself. “I, ah, I remember being told about you almost dying, before I was born, but I can’t remember all of it.”

“Oh, wow, yeah,” Gabriel chuckled to himself. “I haven’t thought about that since… since about two years ago when Will said we should submit the story to the new _Unsolved Mysteries_ reboot.”

“Is that so?” Garcia laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as awkward as it actually was.

“I know mom says it was an angel.” Gabriel helped him swap plates of cooked and uncooked hotdogs to be put on the grill. “And I won’t ever contradict her to her face. But things just… never added up. I’ve come to think it was the trauma of the moment and mom… mis-remembers the whole thing.”

“What do you remember?” he asked, avoiding looking at his brother by putting more dogs on to cook.

“I remember…” Gabriel sighed as he dug that memory up. “There was a lot of pain, and this… giant of a man. But when you’re six, everyone is, am I right? I once towered over you.”

“Yeah, but that didn’t last long.” Flynn had seen the pictures of his growth-spurt.

Gabriel gave him an annoyed look, but covered his grin by taking a drink. “Anway.” He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “It was probably a doctor, or an EMT of some sort, visiting one of the neighbors. When I was old enough to question it, we were in Croatia, so I couldn’t actually, you know, ask questions.”

“Yeah.” Flynn closed the cover on the grill. “You don’t remember anything else? What the man looked like?”

“Again, I was six, and traumatized.” Gabriel chuckled despite the severity of the discussion. “Weird, unexplained, coincidental things happen all the time. I could have walked past the man on the streets of Paris and neither of us realize. So there is no point to dwell on it, just be grateful and live on.”

Flynn smiled. “Are you saying there is no point to dwell on the memories I lost, just be grateful I survived and live on?”

“You always were a quick one.” Gabriel patted his shoulder. “I knew dropping you on your head all those times wouldn’t do any permanent brain damage.”

“I’m sorry what?” 

His half-brother was laughing, any comment cut short by the patio door opening. 

“There’s my boys,” their mother said as she walked up. She looped an arm around both of them and squeezed tight. “You’re behaving yourselves, right?”

“Yes, mama,” Flynn said, leaning down to kiss her on the top of her head.

“Yes, mom,” Gabriel said at the exact same time, giving their mom a kiss on the cheek.

“Good.” She patted them on their backs then reached for the plate of cooked hot dogs. “Finish up and get inside. We have a tree that won’t decorate itself.”

Gabriel followed their mom inside and Flynn finished cooking off the last of the hot dogs. He had been so afraid of not being accepted by his family, of fitting in, and… and none of those worries had been founded.

Dinner was served as more of a buffet style. Someone put on a Christmas movie and they started to hang the ornaments on the tree, one by one. His mother had brought some old ones that she managed to save from when they were boys. Flat little leather disks with saints painted on them.

“Saint Anthony,” Flynn said as he held one up, the colors faded and the stitching around the edges frayed. “Patron saint of travelers.”

“And of lost souls,” his mother added softly. “You should give him a good spot on the tree, so he can protect those we’ve lost.”

His father, Gabriel’s father… both taken too soon. His mother must think she was unlucky in love, but she had her boys, her family. That seemed to be enough.

…

Lorena was getting ready for bed, glad that the trip from France had meant everyone else wouldn’t be staying up late as they tried to get their internal clocks on Californian time. Garcia had been doing well, not getting as over-stimulated with anxiety and fear as she thought he might. But she didn’t want to push her luck on the first day.

“How you feeling?” she asked him as he was brushing his teeth in their bathroom.

“Emotionally drained,” he said, toothbrush still in his mouth. She gave him a moment to finish and rinse. “But surprisingly at peace.”

Lorena smiled at him, taking a big sigh of relief.

He gave her a side-eye. “You can say it.”

“Aren’t you glad you stayed?” Lorena couldn’t help herself. 

He smiled at her and for perhaps the first time there was no caveat on the smile. Nothing to speak of how afraid he was that this was all going to crumble down around him. That he didn’t deserve any of it, and it would all be ripped away.

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

…

The next day, Delphine took over the kitchen to cook the evening meal. Lorena and Roselyn had taken their daughters shopping. Iris wanted to practice her French, but Amaranthe wanted to practice her English. It made for some interesting chatter that even Flynn had trouble keeping up with.

Maria had brought a photo album she made for Flynn to keep. “It’s an early Christmas present,” she said. “Don’t tell the girls because they’ll want to open one too.”

They sat and flipped through the pages, Gabriel putting in his two cents now and again. There were so many things that stayed the same, events they had gone to, trips they had taken. Due to the age difference, it almost looked like his brother had little impact on his life. But when he read between the lines, he mourned his loss.

His life had been richer simply by having Gabriel in it.

Gabriel took care of their mom when Flynn marched into a war, to fight for something bigger than himself. How it must have felt, to know that no matter what, she would be okay, Gabriel would make sure of it.

And his mother, so full of life even at seventy-five. No pain in her eyes, he had taken it from her and carried the burden himself. Because that is what a good son does, he protects his family.

“You okay, sweetheart?” his mama asked him after his eyes got a little blurry.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just…” he wiped the stray tears away. “It’s been a rough few months, and I’m glad you came.”

She reached over and rubbed her hand through his hair as if he was a little boy. “I’ll always be here for you, _piliću_.”

“Sorry we didn’t come earlier,” Gabriel added.

“A mother is neither late nor early,” she said matter of fact. “She arrives exactly when she is needed.”

Flynn was thankful for that, there was no way he could have dealt with both finding his way back into Lorena and Iris’ life _and_ dealing with the emotions of seeing his mother again, meeting his brother, and being part of this whole other family.

A loud whack proceeded by a yelp came from the kitchen.

“Dad!” Marcus whined from the kitchen. “Mom hit me with a wooden spoon!”

Gabriel sighed. “Were you trying to sneak some marrons glacés before supper?”

“… yes.”

“Delphine, my darling, my life,” Gabriel called out. “Next time, use the rolling pin. At his age he’ll never learn if it doesn’t _really_ hurt.”

Everyone who was in hearing distance burst out into laughter. This really was his family.

…

“It smells absolutely divine in here,” Lorena said as she walked into the kitchen. She had just returned from shopping and was avoiding the whirlwind of two pre-teens who had to re-try on everything they already tried on and bought.

“And here I thought I was going to have to apologize for taking over your kitchen.” Delphine was putting a skillet of something amazing looking into the oven.

“Oh no,” Lorena mock gasped and slipped into her best Southern accent as she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Someone is cooking absolutely delicious food? And I don’t have to do a thing? How will I ever recover?”

Delphine play swatted at her with a hand towel. “You still have to cook Christmas dinner, no.”

“Ooo, that reminds me.” Lorena brightened up. “I managed to get an order in for a goose. I’ll pick it up on the twenty-third and marinate that sucker for thirty-six hours.”

“ _Magnifique!_ ” Delphine twirled her wooden spoon in the air. “This will be a Christmas to remember.”

That was definitely the plan. 

Delphine glanced around, and after making sure there was no one in hearing distance, asked quietly. “How are you fairing, Lorena?”

“Me?”

“This can’t have been easy on you,” she said as she put her hand on her shoulder. “It is hard enough when they forget to pick up the towels from the floor, but to forget whole chunks of time, whole conversations.”

The woman didn’t know the half of it, of course she never would. For an idle second Lorena wondered where this lovely woman would be in a world without Gabriel. Would someone’s sister be erased as Amy had once been? Was Delphine missing out on a better life? Or was she always meant to be with Gabriel?

The team knew what they were doing, what they were risking, and just how close to playing god they were when they chose to make specific alterations. Lorena had to believe that this was god’s plan all along. God had conscripted the team to be their archangels in the fight against Rittenhouse, and blessed them in their reward. 

“It must be very difficult for Garcia,” Delphine was saying, “but it must be hard for you too. And I’m sure your priest has already told you this, but just because your suffering seems less, makes it no less valid.”

Lorena let out a soft laugh. “Sounds like something I would say, if things were reversed.”

“The smartest thing those boys have done is to pick women smarter than they are.” Delphine chuckled, going back to the stove.

“What would they do without us?” Lorena asked, actually knowing the answer, but that wasn’t the point. 

When her mother had asked her a similar question, she felt the need to assure her that everything was going well. Garcia’s PTSD was getting under control. Iris was fitting in well at her new school. And Lorena’s relationship with her husband was as strong as ever, after a bump in the road, of course.

This is what lead her mother to giving Lorena a look that she couldn’t quite decipher. She supposed her mother thought Lorena would figure it out, and it took someone else asking her for it to finally click. She had been so focused on what Garcia and Iris needed to get through this, she never really considered what she needed. Or what she wanted.

She let that question stew as the whole family sat down for dinner. Unlike the night before, they huddled around the large table, extra leaves shoved in to accommodate them all. The two brothers at the heads of the table with their families spread out in between. It was hardly an unfamiliar sight, even if it was a bit rare.

But it was completely new for Garcia, though you’d never know it looking at him. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling, his eyes constantly on the verge of tears. She found his hand under the table and gave it a squeeze. 

They all stayed up late that night, talking and reminiscing, moving into the kitchen when Iris and Amaranthe fell asleep in the living room. Then Maria said her goodnights, giving both her boy’s a kiss on the cheek before heading upstairs. Eventually it was just Garcia and Gabriel sitting at the table. 

Lorena laid in bed, trying to put a name to the empty spot she hadn’t realized was there until it was pointed out to her. She had lost something, when the other Garcia… died. For that was really the only way she could look at it. He was gone, replaced with another version of him that she loved just as much. But they were still two different people… and something inside her couldn’t quite get over that fact.

She could continue to ignore it, but that never ends well.

She needed to figure out what she was missing and reconcile the Garcia that was and the Garcia that is. 

The door opened and she listened to her husband be politely quiet as he went into the bathroom and got ready for bed. And somewhere in all the noise of running water and rustling fabric, it came to her as a stray thought that bloomed into an answer.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” he said as he slid under the covers on his side of the bed.

“No, I was awake, thinking.” She sat up so she could talk to him on a more even level. “I… I love you, you know that. My heart knows that. My head knows it. But something is off.”

Even in the darkness she could see his alarmed expression.

“It’s not you,” she quickly assured him. “Well, it is you and it isn’t you. More like us. And I’m starting to ramble because I don’t know how to explain this but, I want to get married again.”

“Married?” he said the word softly.

“Well, renew our vows at least,” she clarified. “It’s just, you said it yourself, at the beginning, we’re two different people now, we didn’t truly know each other. We had to go on dates and find each other again. And maybe this is my insanely religious _babushka_ speaking, but, I want there to be no doubt in the eyes of god that I love you and you are my husband and I am your wife.” 

She hated it when she rambled but everything was coming out so fast as if it had been pressure sealed. Locked away because there were far more important things to deal with at the time, but those feelings were still valid. She couldn’t keep them hidden away forever or they would begin to fester and rot and actually become a problem.

“So yeah,” she just kept speaking into the dark room, his face covered in shadows. “We can have a simple ceremony this time, in the spring. Renew our vows, and then maybe get away for a couple of weeks, just the two of us. We could go to that little place on the beach in Croatia, or, I mean, it doesn’t really matter where. Just some place the two of us can just be… us. And why are you letting me ramble? Please say something.”

Garcia Flynn is bad with words, Lorena knew this when she asked him to speak. But instead of putting his foot in his mouth, he put his mouth on hers. He cupped her head in his hands and kissed her so deeply he pushed her onto her back. His weight solid and comforting on her. 

They laid like that long after they had to breath, existing only in each other’s space.

“Um.” He chuckled and it rippled through them both. “We may need to rework our vows a bit.”

Lorena laughed. “Until death do us part, been there, done that.” 

They joke because they can. Because they went through trials they never thought imaginable, and came out the other side… together.

…

They really only had themselves to blame for Iris being a rather perceptive child who figured out quite early that Santa was actually her _tata_ , sneaking around the house at three am. She managed to keep that fact secret for three years before they caught on that she had caught on. She hadn’t said anything in fear of loosing out on the ‘Santa presents.’

Amaranthe was apparently no less clever. Last year she managed to hide all the good tape and her parents had wrapped her presents with a cheap tape that was… rather easy to peel. Amaranthe unwrapped them all, saw what she was getting, rewrapped them, and planned accordingly. Which is why some of the presents under the tree were wrapped in no less than three layers of duct tape. It was holiday themed with cats wearing Santa hats, but it was still duct tape.

Both girls were passed out cold in front of the Christmas tree on their air mattress. They were not allowed to open presents until 8am Christmas morning when everyone was up. This was a strict rule and no amount of puppy eyes would change their parents minds. They had attended Midnight Mass and they needed _some_ sleep.

Flynn almost caved to the girls, of course, but the others stood firm. 

So at around 7am, he walked very quietly downstairs, using all his combat training to be stealthy and not wake them up. He slipped some extra presents under the tree. Just because they knew it wasn’t some jolly ol’ fat dude from the North Pole didn’t mean it wouldn’t be special.

He swung by the kitchen, figuring he’d put the coffee on so it would be ready for when the others got up. Someone had already made a batch. The heating element was turned off but the pot was still fairly warm to the touch. He hadn’t remembered seeing or even hearing anyone on his way down.

One way you can tell if you are dreaming is if there are inconsistencies. Such as skipping through the banal act of making coffee. 

Flynn took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He wasn’t dreaming, this was real. It may take a long time before he could fully accept that, but so long as he caught himself before the panic set in, then he’d be okay.

Still didn’t answer the question of who made the coffee.

He started to move around to search for clues when a flicker caught his eye. The firepit outside was burning a dull glow. Curled up in a chair, with her back to the house, was his mother, wrapped in a blanket. She was idly sipping her coffee as she watched the fire.

It was a decent temperature in the house, so he hadn’t worn his housecoat, only his slippers cause of the cold tile. He grabbed the other throw blanket from the sofa and wrapped it around his shoulders. Very carefully, so as not to wake the sleeping duo, he opened the patio door and slipped outside.

“Mama,” he said after he closed the door. “It’s cold out here.”

“I have a blanket,” she replied matter of fact. “I have the fire, a hot cup of coffee, and my bunny slippers.” She poked said bunny clad feet out from under the blanket only long enough to show them, the worn ears flapping.

Well, he couldn’t argue with that.

“Come here.” She patted the chair next to her. “Come sit with me.”

He walked over and arranged himself to set beside his mama. His legs were dangerously close to the fire but he’d be fine, and at least warm.

“You remember when your father used to take you camping?” she asked him softly.

“Of course.” So many memories played their way through his head. “We wouldn’t bother with tents and would sleep out under a sky full of stars. He would say the only difference between us and the stars was distance from the sun.”

“He was always saying sappy things like that,” she said with wistful nostalgia. “And you inherited his charming smile.”

“And his chin,” he added, having been reminded after seeing pictures of Asher in the photo book.

“But not his eyes,” his mother nearly whispered. “I would have recognized him if you had the same eyes.”

Flynn slowly turned his head to look at her, wondering if he misheard what she said. 

“Memories are fickle things,” she said, looking at the fire. “Random details get muddled up and you can’t remember if it was a white jacket or tan. How dark brown their hair was. But there is always that one detail that sticks out. One that you can remember, even fifty years later. And that was his eyes.”

“Whose eyes?” he asked cautiously.

“Yours, of course,” she answered, sipping her coffee.

He let out a nervous breath. “Mama, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re as horrible liar as your father.” She chuckled, closing her eyes for a moment and remembering something. 

For his part, Flynn didn’t know what to do or say. He figured if his mother had realized it was him who saved Gabriel in the past, it would have come up by now. But it was much more likely that time would wash her memory. And since time travel wasn’t real—it wasn’t supposed to be real—then it would never occur to her that her son and the angel could be one and same.

“It was Connor Mason, wasn’t it?” she asked him and he couldn’t help his startled expression. “He built a time machine.”

Flynn’s mouth gaped open in surprise.

She glanced over at him and smiled. “I’ve read his work on energy mass transfer, time dilation, and spacetime geometry. He’s brilliant, he’s local, he’s rich, and more importantly, he has a massive ego.”

Of course his mother figured it out, she was brilliant too. The smartest person he knew, and that included Mason. There was no point in pretending she was wrong, not that he had the ability to do so anyway. She was his mother, he couldn’t directly lie to her. 

“How long have you known?” he asked, a tremble to his voice.

“The day your father died,” she answered sadly, reaching up one hand to touch his cheek, just below the corner of his eye. “There was so much pain in your eyes, I had seen it before, but far more intense.”

“I…” so many words wanted to spill out of him that they dammed up behind his sorrow. 

“I know you couldn’t save him,” she assured Flynn as only a mother could. “The only way to save Asher would be to make him leave, and he would never abandon his people. He saved so many lives at the cost of his own.”

Tears were streaming down his face, ice cold from the chill air. He spent hours, days, trying to figure out a way to save his father. But his mother was right, he never would have left his homeland, not when people needed his help, even if he knew he would die there. Lucy once told Flynn he used to help people; she didn’t know that was his father in him. 

But if by some miracle he convinced Asher to flee with his wife and son, then Flynn would never have joined the fight. Never made his way through the military. Never mouthed off to some idiot commanders and therefore got sent to dig ditches as punishment. Never would have met the Sapper in charge. 

He had already risked erasing Iris by erasing himself when he saved Gabriel… and he hadn’t exactly been in the best mental place when he did so. He convinced himself that if he was gone, well, at least Lorena would be alive and he would have managed to save at least one of them. And Iris did take a lot more after Lorena, genetics wise, so perhaps she’d still be out there, safe, a little shorter, but safe.

Or maybe Lorena was right, god created people and opportunities, it was their decision what to do with them. Would he still find Lorena in this other timeline where the Flynn’s left Croatia before the war? Would he cross paths with Lorena on a San Diego street… and just keep on walking?

Would he be haunted by the ghosts of the people Asher Flynn never got to save because he ran away?

How many people could Flynn save before his hubris brought the wrath of god down upon him?

“Come here,” his mother pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay, my baby boy, it’s okay.” 

She rubbed her hands up and down his back as he cried into her shoulder. She started to hum a Croatian lullaby that his grandmother had taught her. Hearing it again just made him cry harder. 

“ _Every memory I have of you, you were always sad_ ,” she repeated what he said to her all those years ago. “Lorena and Iris were murdered, weren’t they?” 

He sat up and nodded, unable to form words. 

“When you introduced Lorena to me and I saw how in love you were, I was afraid, for her, for you,” she admitted, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “But only for a moment, because I knew you got your hands on a time machine, somehow. And I told you, if anyone hurt my child, there is absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do. I still stand by that. I’m just sorry you had to live it.”

“I’m not sorry you didn’t.” He wasn’t, not an iota.

The patio door opened, Gabriel sticking his head out. Flynn could barely look at him, afraid to give away the truth. 

“Everything okay out here?” Gabriel asked.

“Yes,” their mother assured him. “Everything is okay, it’s all going to be okay.”

“Uh, okay,” he was a glancing between the two, not oblivious to his brother’s crying. “The girls are awake, presents in ten.”

“We’ll be in.” 

Gabriel nodded and closed the door. 

Maria looked at Flynn. “You’re not going to tell him, are you?”

“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t do that to him, or his kids.”

“I think he could handle it,” she said thoughtfully, “but I respect your decision. You went through a lot, pain and suffering I can only imagine. I wish I could make it all better…” she trailed off and looked away.

“What is it, mama?”

“It took me awhile,” she answered, much quieter, “to realize that somehow you time travelled, it was the only thing that made sense. But you were so much older when you saved your brother and I just… I didn’t know if I should have said anything.” When she looked at him, there were tears starting to form in her eyes. “I didn’t know what difference it would make, and I didn’t want to lose Gabriel… I didn’t want to lose Lorena and Iris either.”

“Mama.” It was his turn to wrap his arms around his mother and hold her tight. “You couldn’t know, you couldn’t possibly know.”

“I knew my baby boy.” She took a deep breath. “I knew how strong, and smart, and kind, and clever my boy was. And I had hope… I had _faith_ … to trust you knew what needed to be done to save that little angel of yours.”

Flynn laughed despite himself. “I’m glad one of us did.”

“Garcia,” she scolded him. “You and your father with the self-depreciation, I swear.”

There was a light rasp on the patio door. William was on the inside, gesturing for them to come in.

“Come on, mama,” he said as he extricated himself from holding her. “If we don’t get in there, the children will riot.”

“I’m sorry if I ruined your Christmas.” She grabbed her coffee cup and fixed the blanket around her. “I wasn’t going to say anything unless you did. I didn’t want to bring up anything awful. But I… I had to say thank you.” Her smile was that impossible mix of happy and sad. “Thank you for saving your brother, and your family… and me, from the pain of losing them.”

“ _I would go to the ends of the Earth,_ ” he repeated her words. “ _There’s absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do. And I would never let go. _That meant a lot to me.”__

__“Whatever it takes,” she replied firmly._ _

__“Whatever it took.”_ _

__At times Flynn felt like he had destroyed his very soul in his quest to save them. But that was a small price to pay to take down Rittenhouse and bring his family back. And now… knowing that his mother supported him and didn’t fear him or reject him after what he had done…?_ _

__There was another thunk on the patio door. Iris had her face and hands pressed against the glass. Lorena was trying to peel her off, giving them an apologetic look as she did so._ _

__“She is her father’s daughter,” his mom laughed._ _

__“She is at that,” Flynn agreed, standing up._ _

__He offered his hand to help her stand as well, taking the coffee cup so she could hold onto her blanket._ _

__“I do have one last question,” she said before he could walk away. “Agent Mulder? We did get the _X-Files_ in France.”_ _

__“Mulder?” He tilted his head, having to think about that for a second. “Oh! Wyatt. Yeah. Uh, so, about that time machine.”_ _

__“You stole it, didn’t you.” His mother was smirking at him._ _

__Flynn was dumbfounded. “How…”_ _

__“You’re your mother’s son.” She lightly patted his cheek._ _

__His mama head towards the door, leaving him at even more of a loss, though with a distinct level of pride. She had known what he was going to do, and what he had done, and she supported his decision. It gave him the feelings of validation that only a mother could give. In her eyes, she had raised him up right._ _

__When his family was hurt, he did whatever it took to make everything better and make those responsible pay for it. Yet somehow he maintained his humanity through it all._ _

__He was a Flynn, who always has hope._ _

__He was a Thompkins, who never lets go._ _

__And when you have hope, you grab it, put it in a box, and you never, ever, let it go._ _

__“Everything okay?” Lorena asked him once he finally made it inside._ _

__Iris and Amaranthe had dived into the presents. With attention now off him, he wrapped an arm around Lorena and said quietly. “She knows.”_ _

__“She does?” Lorena looked between him and his mother. She gave it a thought, then smiled. “Of course she does.”_ _

__There was a flurry of activity, cutting off their conversation as presents were handed out. Flynn claimed ‘his chair’ and watched as the family bustled around him. He fought tears in his eyes as Iris began opening her presents, still remembering the ones she never got to open, in his timeline at least._ _

__That memory was slowly being replaced by the laughter and cheer of his family celebrating._ _

__A mother who was without pain._ _

__A brother who got his future back._ _

__An extended family who was thriving._ _

__A wife who loved every part of him._ _

__And a daughter who was everything._ _

__His plan had been to walk away from all of them, but it was a different man who made that decision. One who was just as broken and sad and riddled with guilt as he was. Only this other man lacked one thing that he had now:_ _

__Hope._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and Happy Holidays! <3
> 
> And remember, whatever it happening, never give up hope.


End file.
